


Lion and Lioness

by KhadaVengean



Series: Beyond the Earth, Beyond the Sky [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Headcanon, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Redemption, Regret, Relationship Study, Romance, Self-Harm, Survivor Guilt, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violence, Weddings, and even more, angsty fluff, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhadaVengean/pseuds/KhadaVengean
Summary: Even when the demons were plaguing them, there was nothing they wouldn't surpass. After all, they had each other.Azure moon. Post game! Five oneshots containing five pairings.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Marianne von Edmund, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro
Series: Beyond the Earth, Beyond the Sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856056
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	1. King and Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've mentioned it too much already, but this game is killing me and keeps killing me. Holy maccaroni, these pairings are just too much for me. 
> 
> Basically, these are five oneshots about my five ships from the Blue Lions Route. They will be very angsty, but also with much fluff and some issues that I think need to be adressed, since they are not really mentioned in the game. I warn you beforehand that there are some things I have in my headcannon.
> 
> Besides, there are some details which will remain a mystery until I've finished a oneshot (or two, since I'm also writing the 'evil' version of it) for my favorite member of the Blue Lions, but I hope it's okay if I leave it unattended for now.
> 
> I hope you enjoy these and leave me a comment.
> 
> The first one will be for Dimitri and F! Byleth. It was actually supposed to be the last one, but yeah. You know me. Dimileth for life. 
> 
> The third scene in this oneshot was inspired by another fic. I dont remember the name - if anyone knows, please tell me so that I can properly link it. 
> 
> English is not my first language. Please be aware of that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter the wound, big and small, on him or someone else, she was always there. 
> 
> Those hands that guided and healed. The hands of his beloved.

**I.**

Dimitri despised fragile things. They were so easily broken, so unpredictable and with one little motion, they’d just burst in his hands. Fragments and shards on the ground right in front of him. Be it tea cups, silver ware, vases or even flowers.

The prince had always envied his liege in some way. He had watched Dedue often whenever he was in the green house, his hands buried in the earth beneath him and how he tended to the flowers and plants with such delicate care. It brought him pride, but fascination as well – he knew of his closest friend’s strength, standing tall and broad next to their classmates with his calm attitude and his silent demeanor. But in those hands, they held strength and such tenderness that any given flower would bloom in its fullest with incredible beauty.

The weight in his hands, so small and so incredible precious, reminded him once again why he disliked fragile things with such passion.

He found her in between the two quarters where the student’s rooms were located. It had crawled into a barrel and only thanks to its soft meowing and helpless sounds, Dimitri had changed his focus and took it out, holding it in his hands. Its mother was nowhere to be seen.

The little kitten, probably only a couple of months old, with gray fur and closed eyes, nuzzled the fabric of his gloves, whimpering with its little sounds over the cut paw. The little spot on its limb could be seen as insignificant to him, but it was huge for the little animal. It shuddered and trembled. Even though the soft rays of the sun were shining, the little thing was caught in the cold.

Dimitri had no idea what she should do. Of course, his reason told him to find a healer quickly. Maybe Mercedes, Professor Manuela or Marianne. They could take care of the paw and the kitten would be fine so easily.

But the other side, the side that disliked fragile things, was frozen. He was stroked by excessive demands. Would he hurt it when he went on his way? If he’d lie it down, would it go somewhere else, forgetting him and trying to lick the wound of as often as possible?

Oh Sothis, what was he supposed to do?

“Dimitri?”

As soon as his name was spoken, he recognized the voice. And goddess, maybe it was a bad idea to go out so early in the morning, long before classes started.

“Professor.” The weight in his hands was significantly heavier than before. Should he stand up and pay her the respect she deserves as his teacher, standing true to his role as house leader, or should he stay crouched and not try to startle the kitten in any way possible?

She seemed to catch his hesitation, lifting her brows only a little bit when she came down the stairs, the heels of her boots clacking against the stone surface. He saw the books in her hand and he cursed himself even more – not even did he lack his words, being impolite towards her and not bidding her a good morning, he even took her attention from class and caused her to aim for her original destination towards the classrooms.

“Is everything alright?” The closer she came, the more he panicked. He wasn’t allowed to stand up too rashly. He didn’t know how the kitten would react, especially since it really seemed to like his gloves. “Why are you sitting there? Isn’t it too early for you to be up?” She tilted her head. “Classes start in two hours.”

The way she titled her head was too endearing. But Dimitri quickly forgot that thought and left it at that. “Well, I could ask you the same professor.”

Not the best answer he could give.

The impassive expression on her face didn’t change when she got closer. Her eyes fell to his hands and her eyebrows rose. “What do you have there?”

Her question was easily answered. But not by him.

The kitten meowed as loud as it could, seeming like it understood his professor’s question and making itself noticeable. She gave of a surprised sound and Dimitri would have loved to chide himself for thinking how adorable it sounded.

But before he could say anything, the heels of her boots buried themselves in the ground beneath them when she got closer with every step, crouching down next to him and putting her books and notes right next to her.

“I know that kitten.”

“Y-You do?”

“I’ve fed it recently.” He recalled that some children were asking her to feed the cats and dogs that were scattered across the monastery. It was heartwarming to see how she cared for those animals, being loved by them and obviously so by the amount of cats that had found one of their favorite spots on her lap.

“I see.”

“Is it hurt?” One of her fingers skimmed over its fur, working her magic and found a spot right between its torso and neck, petting it a little bit. The whining didn’t stop, but it started to purr, just a little bit. “Did something happen?”

“I…”

Would she ask questions if he answered her? He knew how perceptive she was – the way she furrowed her brows, how she tilted her head, how her ears perked up whenever an unusual sound echoed through the classrooms or even when her nose started to twitch. Dimitri always had to look very hard in order to see it.

“Dimitri?”

He hasn’t noticed that he spaced out. With a cough, he cleared his throat and muttered quietly underneath his breath: “Apologies professor,” he cleared his throat, “I found this kitten in a barrel, right here.” He gestured to the spot. “Its paw was hurt and I didn’t know-“

He was incapable. He didn’t even know how to treat a wounded animal.

_Pathetic,_ the voices seemed to say in his ear. Even through the soft rays of the  harp string moon’s sun, the cold rarely felt closer and more inevitable. They screeched into his ear, their breaths tickling the shell of his ear and he was frozen in place.

Was winter around? Or why did he freeze? Goddess, he was used to the cold. He knew the harsh bites of winter, how the wind never faltered or showed mercy upon the citizens. During the worst winters, before or after  _it_ happened, he remembered how he stared out of the window in his old room and recognized the blanket of snow. He knew it. 

Maybe that’s the reason why he despised the fire.

“Give it to me.”

Her voice broke through the cold and he felt dawns tender light on his neck. With a deep breath, he could feel a part slide of his shoulder and he looked at her. She reached out her hands, her palms up and waited for him.

“I..I didn’t quiet understand-“

She was one of the most patient people he knew. But in this moment, he saw something trail between her eyebrows. “Maybe I can help that cat.”

The professor rose from her position, rounded him and let her knees fall into the ground. Dimitri felt a blush climb up his face, looking at her features when she focused solely on the kitten in his hand. “Hold still.”

He gulped down the fill in his throat and nodded, silently and patiently.

The kitten whimpered louder and he watched as his professor put her right hand on the kittens head and the other right on the hurt limb.

The prince felt his breath being caught in his throat. A soft glow emanated from her hand and the whimper slowly quieted down to a soft sound. Only a couple of seconds later, she took her hands away and petted the animal’s head in loving gestures.

Dimitri stared at her hands in awe. Only after she looked at his profile with risen eyebrows, he was capable to speak again. “My apologies, professor. I wasn’t aware that you were so proficient in the art of faith.”

“Manuela and Lady Rhea helped me.” Her fingers danced over the kitten’s fur, letting it purr in his hands. “I’ve asked them to teach me some basics since I wished to help you if anyone gets injured.

The vibration in his hands from the kitten’s purr climbed up his limbs and let the tension fall from his shoulders. From the corner of his eyes, he watched her rise from her position, taking her books in one arm and reaching out to him with her hand.

For the first time, he noticed how small her hands were. Slender fingers, calloused fingertips and an open palm. She cocked her head to the side, looking calmly at him.

It was a gaze without prejudice. Without worry. Simply an offer to help him up.

With a smile, he took her hand and her warmth seeped right through his skin into his bones.

* * *

**II.**

The scent of her room was intoxicating. A scented candle, spreading the faint note of flowers and fire, lighted the room with its spark and allowing their shadows to dance with each other on the wall. Their movements collided on the surface; their dark limbs touched each other. Byleth wrung out a rag from the water bowl, the strands of her hair shaking with every motion.

He watched her from the corner of his healthy eye – the other side was plunged in a deep darkness.

She didn’t wear her boots. If he wouldn’t know her, he’d mistake her for a fairy – she moved smoothly and gracefully, without a skip in her beat, even though she heaved the chair form her desk and put it right in front of him.

The candle flickered. The shadows continued to move.

She reached out her hand. Looked into his eyes. The green of her orbs confused and puzzled him. “This might hurt.”

He didn’t have the courage to say anything. He nodded.

When the rag made contact with his wounds, he flinched. He gritted his teeth, nearly shattering them under his strength. He grunted when she found a spot on his right upper arm. The wound was still fresh, only a makeshift bandage wrapped around his limb and she had pried it away with deft fingers. He had closed his eye, and when her hand touched his wound, everything came back at once.

Grondor. Edelgard. The blood of Eagle and Lion. The same place where they had fought five years ago, underneath a different sky. A battle so different, and yet, the one they tormented was so identical.

Something hitched in his breathing and he intervened his fingers. Rodrigue’s deat-

He didn’t even want to think the word.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri.”

It echoed through the room, resonated inside his head and the tone of her voice was capable to put a carving into his heart. “You have nothing to apologize, professor,” he whispered, the grip on his fingers tightening. A couple of days ago, he would have imagined Edelgard’s throat between his hands.

Now it was nothing but a disgusting flavor in his mouth.

“Does it hurt anywhere?”

_Everywhere,_ would have been the most obvious reply. Especially since Dimitri took every possible hit – Edelgard’s axe, Claude’s arrows, Hubert’s dark magic. Even with his armor, Arredhbar on his side, he was considered a mad man, but he couldn’t take everything. 

The blood that he had lost was answer enough for that.

“I-“

He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to interrupt this moment with his words. So he simply looked at his feet.

She cleaned his wounds. His arms, his torso, his back. It cut his breath away when she kneed on the bed and maneuvered her form behind him.

The feeling of her warm hands against his skin cut his breath short. The feeling of her hands seeped through his skin into his bones and the knots and fatigue passed quicker than ever before. Slowly, the pain dulled and he put his head in his neck, feeling her tender touch and enjoying her caresses.

“Dimitri?” Even her voice was far away.

“Yes?”

“Do…do you trust me?”

Normally so confident, it was a drastic change of pace when she sounded so feeble, so hesitant. He remembered her when she returned from the void, her hair and her eyes shining brightly in the color so similar to the goddess. She was determined, ready to strike down her opponent.

When the attack on Garreg Mach began and she helped the students to escape.

The prince, maybe king, realized that even his beloved professor was capable to learn the heights of fear.

“I do.” After the day, after Grondor, it felt wrong to say these things. But it was the truth. He trusted her.

With all his being.

“Then I want to try to take away some of your pain. You have to promise me that you won’t attack me.”

Attacking her? Nev-

When the thought came and went, a dry smile spread on his lips.

Yesterday, he would have attacked her for no reason. Without a doubt.

So he simply let his shoulders fall and whispered: “I promise.”

Byleth put her hands on his ears. First her left one and to his complete dismay, then her right one. Ever since he lost his sight, he needed his right ear – it was the only way to notice anything coming from the east. He dug his fingers into his pants and panted heavily, trying to stick to his promise.

He mustn’t attack her. At all cost.

On his left side, there was silence. But in his right ear, he could hear the voices come back, scream at him and urging him on to carry out their desires.

He had both hoped and feared that this day would come.

Her hand left his ears, wandered over to his jaw, his cheeks and finally, _finally_ , she put her hands on his eyes and everything got caught up in his throat, a lump preventing him from speaking. The place where the weight of his eye once filled his lid, was empty. Cold, for the last four years.

It was filled with warmth. The temperature of her fingers seeped through his patch into the empty hole and this horrible tingling that had accompanied him ever since he bore that wound, slowly, _but surely_ , faded.

He felt her head on the back of his neck. Behind her hand, he closed his intact eye and breathed out deeply.

“I can’t do much,” she whispered against the fur of his coat, “but let me try.”

She had healed his wounds, cleared the blood away and she even took the effort to ease the pain in his lost socket. And she asked him to give her permission.

He didn’t deserve this. He deserved the blood, the pain, everything he had ever done to others and _himself_ -

Suddenly, the pain and the never ending tingling in his eye stopped. Completely. The voices ceased and...there was nothing.

Nothing but her, only her and her warm hands.

He pressed his hands against hers on his eyes and the lump disappeared, and with that…

... _the dam was finally broken_.

Tears escaped his eyes, sobs from his mouth and he didn’t know if the trembling in his shoulders was from happiness or sadness. It wasn’t born from hatred or wrath or the desire for vengeance.

For the first time in over nine years, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd felt like a human being.

The face of Rodrigue popped inside his mind and he remembered that he died with a smile on his face. Content, seemingly asleep, he was now on the other side.

Strangely he knew that Rodrigue wouldn’t join the others for their wish upon his shoulders. He wasn’t touched by the cold or the searing heat. This warmth that she provided him with was comforting, a loving touch upon his skin and his limb.

“Professor...”

_My beloved professor…_

“Please...”

_Whatever happens…_

“I...”

_Do not leave me. Don’t shut me out._

She understood. She always understood.

“Shh.” When she took her hands away from his eyes, he felt exposed. He didn’t deserve _anything like this-_

She wrapped her arms around his neck; her knees touched his backside and buried her nose in the juncture between throat and shoulder. It was intimate, her warmth encompassing his entire body and sweetly lulling him to peace. A soft spoken lullaby, she hummed in his skin and Dimitri leaned into her embrace, closed his eye and allowed the tears to fall down his cheek.

Human. Not a beast anymore.

A human being.

* * *

**III.**

_Dimitri Alex-_

And once again, the cramp returned to his hand. It spread to his fingers, to the tips and he was forced to drop the feather.

It echoed like a dead weight in the far corners of his father’s former study.

He took a shaking breath. It rumbled through his chest and didn’t even reach his lungs properly. It was true. No matter how much he tried to deny it, it was true.

He couldn’t even write his own name properly anymore.

“You were right, professor.”

She stood right next to him, her green eyes locked on his face and her orbs following his every movement. She was the one to suggest it, to write his own name.

“I suspected as much.” She cocked her head to the side and stared at his hands. He didn’t think much about it at first – but when he followed her gaze, he realized something crucible.

His hands were trembling. Stuck in a moment in time, trying to break out of their prison but with no chance in sight.

He tried to release another breath. But he failed. It got stuck in his throat and he had to cough. He wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work, but it did.

“My apologies.” He meant it truly.

He was bound to be king, to lead an army and he couldn’t even write his _own name._ When he closed his eye, he noticed his shallow breath; it was cold, climbing up his lungs and spreading to his arms and his head. His heart skipped beats.

He didn’t know if it was due to his father’s former study, the exhaustion in his limbs or the fact that he actually had a future to look at. But he was frozen in this moment, his shoulders succumbing to the weight beneath them and the past clinging to his ears and whispering.

He put his elbows on the desk’s surface and buried his face in his hands. Took a deep breath. Two, or three. He waited and waited for his lifeline to calm down, to work properly again.

And suddenly, a cold weight was placed on his shoulder. The organ in his chest froze on the spot and he could feel the shadows leaning over him, taking him in their grasp and tugging on his form. They wanted to drag him back. Back to the place he was before, to the man he was before. Back where he belonged-

“ _You are unworthy,”_ his father spoke, his deep voice rumbled through the chamber. The presence of his professor died all of a sudden and day turned to night – the sun was covered by the night sky, clouds hiding the moon and the stars and the horizon reminded him of a time long forgotten. _“You are not fit to lead this kingdom, this army. Where is the head, Dimitri? Where is it?”_ The weight turned to a cold grip, nearly crushing his bones. It felt too real – the men of the Blaiddyd family were always known as men who bore too much power, breaking things easily. His father became king because he bore the crest instead of his uncle.

The power that nearly pulverized his bones and muscles was too much of a proof. There was no mistake.

His father stood behind him, ready to kill him. He didn’t heed his the king’s words. He was a useless prince, a good for nothing son and even incapable to carry out revenge. To take a life was so easily done.

After all, Dimitri had done so many times in the past. Men, women, children. All of them. He didn’t hesitate.

“ _My dear friend Rodrigue sacrificed himself for you. For you worthless creature. There is nothing you can do right. Everything you touch will be tainted and spoiled. You are no human, Dimitri. Neither a human nor my son.”_ He didn’t even imagine that his father’s tone could grow to be even colder, but it did. _“What did I do to deserve such a lowlife creature like you?”_

“ _You know what they say about leaders and beasts.”_ His stepmother – no, the _witch -_ joined, her voice not cold, but snarky, a voice fitting for someone like her. _“If a beast leads men, the men become beasts too. The endless cycle of a king and its people.”_

“ _You wish to be king? Peace? Don’t make me laugh! You took everything from the people around you and now you even dare to harbor such a desire?! I died because of you; you took all happiness from me and now you want to ignore all that to your childish dream?!”_

Glenn’s snarl was the final hit. What was he even doing there? He retook Fhirdiad, killed Cornelia but what about the rest? He-

“Dimitri.”

The cold was gone and warmth seeped through his clothes into his skin, easing away the pain. A gasp was torn from his lungs and the air finally filled his body with life. “Professor,” he wheezed, coughing and leaning over the desk.

Warmth reached his temples and like thunder followed lighting, his hands grasped hers and pressed them close to his head. Her fingers were so slim, and yet, she didn’t hesitate to intervene them and let her thumb run over her hair through his skin.

“I should have known...”

_...that one day, you would be haunting me as well._

“...that your father’s study was not the best place to try this out. I’m sorry.” Her soft voice echoed through the room, but instead of his father’s booming organ, ordering the attention on himself and commanding him, forcing and pressuring him, she offered him a choice. Her tone was delicate, but strength hidden underneath the surface. “The memories here...”

“After the tragedy, this office was closed. Nobody entered it anymore after my father died.” _Time,_ he needed time to regain his strength. He had to be patient. “But when he was still alive, I remember this room fondly. It’s the place where I took my first steps, according to him. There were many times when I’ve waited for him and fell asleep.” He motioned to the couch on the other side of the room. “Whenever I woke up, there was a blanket draped over me and sometimes he waited for me to wake up. My father was a good and kind man and I...”

_...am nothing like him._

Before the voices came and twisted everything wonderful in his mind to a distorting memory, he remembered the times when he fell asleep and he woke up when sunset was on the horizon, his father sitting next to his head and watching him with a fond smile on his face and caressing his hair. The warmth of his touch and the tenderness of his movement, petting his hair gently and telling him that he should continue sleeping. **“I will wake you up when dinner’s ready.”**

So he had closed his eyes and curled against his father’s thigh, drawing his knees up to his chest and lulling sweetly.

“The things you’re saying…,” she says, her voice reaching his ears and breaking the silence.

Normally, the memory would change. His father would grab his throat and try to squeeze the air out of his lungs, commanding him to avenge him, throwing him down the carpet and holding _the_ dagger at his pulse and Dimitri would just look at him, unable to say anything. He was so incredibly powerless in front of him.

“They remind me of my own father.”

A comforting sensation sneaked through her fingers into his head. “He always looked out for me. Always made sure I’m alright and I eat enough. He taught me how to fight and how to survive. Everything until today, the person I am, is thanks to him.”

The light tremble in her hands caught him off guard.

“I can imagine the feelings you bear. Sometimes, I miss my father as well… and the fact that I never told him the words he deserved after everything he had done for me, lets me weep with regret. I wonder if there was anything he ever wished to tell me.”

“Does he...” The words were filled with venom and the helpless desire to find someone who feels like him. “Does he visit you too?”

Did she hear his voice? Did he speak to her like his father did to him? Did she understand his feelings better than he had originally anticipated?

“There are times when I dream of him. Old memories which I buried deep inside my mind and they resurface every now and then. But he… he never speaks ill. In fact, he never speaks at all.” A hum escaped her throat. “He just smiles at me and I know that he always wanted the best for me. And for that, I am grateful for.”

The throbbing in his head ceased and he exhaled when she lightened her touch on his temples. “We do this together, Dimitri. I will stay by your side. I promise you.”

She took his hands away and he felt her touch on his wrist. “Try one more time. In no time, you will write normally again.”

And the king smiled. “Thank you, professor.”

* * *

**IV.** ****

It was over. Goddess, it was truly over.

They had won the war. All the bloodshed would finally come to an end.

But the wounds were deep. They had losses to mourn, blood to clean off, burns and cuts to heal, morale to refresh. Peace was right in front of their feet and yet, it was still so far away. But that was a price he was willing to pay.

But now, after everything, he had his beloved by his side. The woman, who had guided him, took his pain away and soothed his wounds with her comforting touch; whose smile let his heart flutter in excitement, the one who took his wrist and led him away from darkness he had shut himself in.

The plan was set – a new infrastructure, forgetting the superiority of crests, aiming towards a unified continent and balancing the power of state and church to a healthy level. He had to improve the situations in other territories, take care of the war orphans and veterans, make sure that every person in Faerghus who lost their family due to war wouldn’t suffer under hunger or cold.

And in private, the wedding to Byleth Eisner, archbishop of the holy church of Seiros, also needed to be organized. Their future waited on their doorstep and waited to be forged by them. He needed to heal, eat regularly and let the wounds finally close them.

He only caught a whim of sleep, his advisors working tirelessly besides him and when he fell into bed, dawn was right around the corner and forced him to wake up. It was similar to the situation only months ago, when he didn’t catch enough sleep due to nightmares waking him up every night.

The king let out a sigh. He hoped that things would get better from now on.

_They didn’t._

Count Aegir stood in front of him, his red mane bound into a ponytail – he was assured that it was custody of his fiancée, since he could already imagine Dorothea standing behind him and shooting him the most convincing look she could muster – but instead of a playful smile on his lips, his forehead was set unto a frown, his eyebrows furrowed and he bowed deeply in front of the newly crowned king.

He held a small book in his hand.

“My apologies for bothering you on a day like this, your majesty.” As soon as the tone echoed of the walls, Dimitri rose from his position on his chair, putting his hands on his desk and waiting for the noble to continue speaking. “But I found something that I thought would require your utmost attention.”

The book’s cover was white, small and inconspicuous. The edges have turned to a pale gray, the pages yellowish. The scent clinging to the pages reminded him of something that he had wanted to forget deeply.

“After the end of the final battle, I took my soldiers with me to search for everything the former emperor has left behind. Notes, documents, contracts, anything that may have given us a clue of the emperor’s plans or her thoughts.” To see Ferdinand von Aegir gulp only in the slightest and to notice that sweat was forming on his forehead and slowly dripping down his face was enough for Dimitri.

Something was happening. Ferdiand handed the book over to him. It was ridiculously small in his palm, fitted to be a book for a child.

But its weight was heavier than Arredhbar in his hands.

“We found this. It seemed to belong to the former emperor.”

Ever since he took his spot as his father’s heir, he hadn’t said her name once. She was always the emperor, not the name she had carried.

“My apologies to inform you of this, but I read the first few pages. As soon as I realized what it was about, I decided to hand it over to you. If someone is capable to decipher the message of these entries, it’s you, your majesty.” He bowed once more in front of him. “I suggest that you read it if you have a moment of time. The contents are…,” The words were caught in their way and the duke cleared his throat, “worrying, to say.”

Ferdinand von Aegir left the office and he was left alone. He accompanied him to the door and locked it as soon as he left.

He sat down on his chair and held the book in his hand. Even small, it was hers. It belonged to the former Adrestian Emperor. Dimitri knew she didn’t write it in Faerghus – the many times they had spent in her room back then, laughing and being children and best friends, she had never told him anything about it.

The scent of the piece in his hand signalized something else.

The sharp sensation in his nose reminded him of the dungeon he had spent his imprisonment in.

So, with trembling fingers and staggering breath, he opened the lid and was greeted by her handwriting. Neat, clean, even. But the little dots where the ink was blurred conjured a picture in his mind.

“ _They took my hair color. Now I look like a ghost.”_

He imagined her to sit in her room in the castle in Enbarr, her form hunched over the desk and her hair falling down her elbows. There were tears in her eyes and even she couldn’t control them.

“ _I am the only one left. I am the heir to the Adrestian throne.”_

Dimitri felt the strength leave his limbs.

“ _I will become emperor. Father told me so.”_

A tear fell down his cheek.

“ _Do I truly want this?”_

She was a victim as well. She was the same as Lysithea; both of them sharing the same fate.

And the mere truth let the sob run out of his throat and into the cold air, forcing his body to tremble and cower in regret and sorrow. He mourned the girl with the once brown hair and the beautiful monster she became.

Now, everything made sense.

The king didn’t know how long he sat there. Weeping, grieving, crying over the girl who was once his best friend and sister, his greatest enemy ~~and his first love-~~

A knock echoed through the room and time came to a halt. He was prepared to send everyone away – he wanted to be alone, to weep and to have his time, without the world to see him. He wasn’t a king in that moment, but a human being.

“Love, it’s me. Can I come in?”

Byleth. His fiancee's voice echoed through the room and reached his ears in a blissful note. The distorted sounds faded away and he let out a deep sigh, ran his hand down his face and balled the hand that wasn’t holding the diary in a tight fist. “Of course.”

She wore her hair in a ponytail, its tip touching her neck and two strands framing her face lovingly. From her clothes, he mused that Ingrid has taken her to a ride on her Pegasus with her tight boots and her light yet practical clothing. Her eyes were set on him and her brows were furrowed in worry. “I’ve heard from Ferdinand that something is going on.” The heels of her boots were clacking through the room. “He told me to come here.” She took a seat on his desk, right next to him. “What happened?”

Duke Aegir probably read more than he had originally admitted. But that was fine.

Silently, he passed it to her and the archbishop accepted it quietly, leaning against his desk, holding the emperor’s legacy in her right hand and grasping his hand with her left one.

Minutes passed and he saw the dull light in her eyes. Without words, she put it down, back to the wooden surface and put her arms around his shoulders and seated herself on his lap.

The king accepted his queen without hesitation and the tears were coming quicker than he had thought.

The information about his step-sister’s suffering and her agony, the reason why she did everything let it appear in a different light. He gained a new perspective, but it was too late.

He killed her.

“You saved her, Dimitri.”

“I-“

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He killed her. Without even trying to understand the reason why she did this. He understood her motives, her methods, but not her reason.

“We will do everything so she can rest in peace.”

Sometimes, death was salvation. Dimitri knew that. He had often dreamed about the scenario if his life ended.

“We will do this together. I promise you.”

The king wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his future wife close to his chest, burying his face between her shoulder and neck and weeping for the girl he had lost.

The wounds on his heart may never heal.

* * *

**V.**

Even though they tried to be quiet, they failed so horribly. He had to thank the cold and the fever – he heard everything so much better; and only for the cause to worse his headache by letting everything sound so much louder.

“You got to be quiet, okay?”

“Yes, mama,” their trio answered with hushed voices and pattering feet, making little sounds and being nearly as stealthy as a shadow can be. They whispered between themselves and even though he could understand every word, he forgot it as easily as they came.

The edge of the mattress dipped a little bit when they climbed up. His oldest sat to his left, his second by his feet and his youngest to his right. “Dimitri?”

His love’s voice was as soothing as the cool rag on his forehead.

“Mama? Can I hug Papa?”

A question from his daughter. His wife sighed deeply through her nose. “If you ask him nicely and he says yes, then of course.”

A poke at his arm. “Papa? Can I hug you?”

He answered with a grumble. A yes, even though he was probably highly contagious. But the princess was a stubborn and sturdy girl; she never got sick, only during her earliest days and she quickly put her head on his lap.

“Are you feeling better, Papa?”

“I am, son. Don’t worry about me.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, father?” The voice of his oldest came closer and he could already feel another weight join the other three. While his son waited for an answer, Byleth brushed the strands out of his face and mumbled for herself.

Even though the king had nothing but a simple cold with a little fever, he knew that she was worried beyond recognition.

“If you’re here, that’s more than enough.”

He finally managed to open his eye from exhaustion and looked into the blue orbs of his son and the golden head of his daughter. Byleth smiled at him, put a hand on his forehead and the soft glow of her magic raced right through his head through his nerves and he could feel the tension of his illness passing from his limbs. He let out a sigh and looked over to Byleth, sitting to his right. He had to crane his neck a little bit, but it was worth it.

“Thank you.”

The queen’s smile was bright, adoring and loving. “You’re welcome.”

And before he could react, his two sons joined their sister and her put an arm around all of them, pulling them close.

It was his family. His wife and his three children.

And only thanks to them was he capable to let his wounds heal. They stung sometimes, they still reminded him of the dark times he endured and sometimes he felt as if the voices would never leave him alone.

But it was a beginning he was happy about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 7/9/2020:
> 
> I thought it was such an awesome asset that the Enlightened One was had an affinity for healing magic. In all my playthroughs of Azure Moon, I've skilled my Byleth to Reason Magic on Level A.
> 
> This is basically the result of this. I regret nothing.


	2. Sword and Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dimitri asks Felix for a request, the old demons of the past approach him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After six months, I finally got to end it. It was one hell of a ride. Next one is probably gonna be Sylvain and Ingrid.
> 
> English is not my first language. Please be aware of that.

When the message of the queen’s pregnancy reached the ears of Faerghus, the people rejoiced. Countless messages and gifts found their way to the royal palace and in every man’s and woman’s face, there was nothing but elation and excitement about the news.

As soon as Dimitri told his friends, former classmates and comrades in arms the news, a  smiling queen and archbishop right by his side, the joy of the happy couple was shared between the former Blue Lions. Mercedes and Annette had not hesitated to hug their queen and former professor and without hesitation, Sylvain had laid an arm around the king’s shoulder, being criticized by Ingrid and Dedue with a chuckling Ashe beside them, congratulating the expecting couple. 

Felix, standing on the sidelines, watched them with silent eyes, speaking his own congratulations and ignored the concerned look of his wife on his face. He was good at hiding it, but of course, Annette would always see through the facade. She knew him just too well.

* * *

The moons had passed and two weeks before his actual appearance, the king had sent a message to Duke Fraldarius with an easy comprehensible message.

“ _There is something I wish to speak with you about. It’s urgent.”_

When Annette has heard about the message being delivered to them, she has raised an eyebrow while she combed her hair right in front of her mirror. “I wonder what’s wrong.” Her orange tresses were falling like soft waves over her shoulders, framing her lovely face just in the right way and the candlelight brought a healthy hue of red on her cheeks. Felix had seen that picture multiple times before, ever since they got married and he’d never get tired of it.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if the boar had decided to ask us about something unnecessary. You know how he is.”

The little pout on her lips was supposed to make him shudder, but he just found it even more endearing.

“Felix, you shouldn’t make fun of his majesty. He’s looking forward to the child that will be here in a couple of moons. Don’t you think you can try to be a little bit happier for him?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, she stared back. Her eyes were intriguing, the pale blue tone holding a provoking and yet endearing expression. She was challenging him and if it would be a normal fight with swords, there was no chance that he’d lose. But this?

She was right. Of course she was right. The boar – no, the  _king –_ was happy, after 9 years of suffering, ever since the tragedy, since both Felix and Dimitri’s life took a turn to the worst. He was married, he found his light in their former professor, in his wife and now both of them were expecting something so out of this world that Felix couldn’t even try to comprehend it at this point. 

But old habits die hard.

He scoffed and put the letter on the nightstand, placing his head on the pillow stared at the ceiling.

Annette started to hum again, her singing bringing a spark into the night and before any cat could catch her tongue, she suddenly blurted it out: “We will be uncle and aunt by then.”

The fact hasn’t occurred to him yet. But now everything made sense: Annette’s and Mercede’s giggling whenever they spoke about the unborn child, Sylvain boasting and all the promises he made what he will teach the little one, Marianne’s and Ashe’s excitement and Ingrid’s sense of duty. Not to mention Dedue, whose face always softened when the child of his liege was brought up.

Sylvain had always called himself ‘Uncle Sylvain’ whenever the future crown prince or princess was mentioned. Felix had always shaken it off, thinking that it was once again a simple joke his childhood friend had brought up.

Felix rose from his position, sitting on the mattress and keeping his focus on his wife. “I hadn’t been thinking of that. But you know it doesn’t work like that.”

“That doesn’t matter. You should start to consider it.” By then, Annette has already stood up from her spot in front of her mirror and took her spot right in front of him, clad in a nightgown with her hair falling down. She had propped her hands on her waist and stared at him with those piercing eyes of hers. She was trying to be strict, attempting him to change his thoughts, but apparently, the sole thought about the baby let her face brighten and the sun returned to her face once more.

“Imagine how cute it will be…” A giggle rose in her throat and she clasped her hands, her eyes resembling the light that he recognized in her. “Such a tiny thing with those small hands and those small feet…”

The duke felt his face softening. The heavy weight on his chest fell down; the letter on the nightstand was forgotten. Right now, in this very moment, he simply gazed at Annette and thanked the goddess above that she chose him as her husband, her other half.

Even when she leaned forward and grabbed his hands, pulling him up on his feet and she swayed with him from side to side, humming a tune that softened the drum in his ears, the softening of his features remained and he looped his arms around her waist, pressed her close to his chest and caught her giggling against his skin. It vibrated to his shoulders and his hair and when Annette looked at him through her eyelashes, she leaned upwards and he leaned down.

When he kissed her, the word _urgent_ has been entirely crossed out of his mind.

* * *

Whenever the king had appeared, the entire staff was out of its mind, especially when Annette did her best to prepare something to welcome their sovereign and friend. Dinner, his room, supplies for his guard and without a doubt, Dedue would accompany him.

Two weeks after his letter arrived, King Dimitri arrived at the manor of House Fraldarius, but, to everyone’s surprise, without the Duscurian man by his side. The smile was cool on the Duke’s lips when he greeted his old friend and the king responded with a greeting of his own. There was tension in the air between them and Felix could see guilt inside his blue eye.

It knocked all air out of his lungs. The familiar feeling of his distaste towards him came back in full force and he was thankful that Annette accompanied him to his room, filling the air with idle chatter and never ending questions.

“ _How’s_ _the professor_ _?”_

“ _How’s the baby?”_

“ _Why did Dedue not go with you?”_

“ _How is Mercie?”_

“ _Are you excited?”_

There was a strange trace of different emotions in his face. When he answered all her question, he saw the happiness in his features, telling them - or more Annette only since he didn’t pay any big attention to his words and simply kept his look on his face and eyes– that Byleth was well, the baby was healthy and growing normally. He had asked Dedue to keep an eye on his wife, earning a groan from the queen that he shouldn’t worry so much about her.

Annette had laughed about that and her giggles were the only thing that restrained him from not taking his sword and aiming for him immediately. The air was heavy around the two of them and lightened only by the Duchess making conversation. When she had asked about his excitement, how he felt about his coming fatherhood, the air nearly snapped.

“I… I am happy.”

That was surely an understatement. But Felix didn’t dwell on it. If the boar had something to tell him, then he should gather the courage to do so. This dwindling, the constant passing around of looks and unspoken messages was enough to let Felix snap. Annette had softened him, had even taught him that some things were better to be unsaid, but this was a case that nearly broke all his patience.

It thinned over every hour; eating  dinner , the duchess keeping the conversation alive, speaking about the territories and the formal matters. 

When dinner was done Dimtiri stared at the table and looked up, asking him for a spar. Looking at each other, Felix knew it was his silent cue. He wished to speak alone with him, without Annette or anyone else to listen to them. He nodded, showed him the way.

When sword and lance hit, steel against steel, no words were needed. Even though the king was not even half as strong as during the war, marriage and peace softening him, there was a certain edge in every swing of his, clashing against his blade and bringing the sweat forward. Strength and speed were never enough and the focus was entirely set on his every movement.

Felix emerged victorious. He managed to beat the lance out of the king’s hands, pointing the tip of his blade at his throat with a low grunt; he pulled it back, shoving it back into the sword sheath. “Will you finally tell me what is on your mind?”

The puzzled look and yet the bashful one –  _How did you know?,_ it seemed to say – was directed to him and Felix was one step before pushing his sword right through his heart. “There is something wrong with you. And I’m sick of waiting until you finally have the guts what you wanted to talk with me about.”

“You’re right, Felix. My apologies.” It took a while for him to speak those words. He stood up and without further ado, they took a seat on the steps leading to the sparring ground, sitting side by side. It was a picture the duke knew – before the tragedy, before darkness invaded their lives, before _Glenn’s death_ – they sat like that all the time, speaking to each other with childish glee, about their friends, their fathers, knighthood, stories they shared. 

“I…I am happy now, Felix. Happier than ever before in my life.”

Annette has taught the duke to remain calm, to try to tame your nerves to not snap at someone any given minute. He remembered the lesson, realizing that he needed to speak those words to actually tell him the  _goddamned_ thing he wanted to discuss.

“Without Byleth, I don’t think I’d have ever found the purpose in my life. Without her, there was no chance for me to live a life – I was so focused and imprisoned in my own life, seeking for revenge, it would have made no difference if I died out there like a rat in the street. I killed and humiliated soldiers without end, trying to fill in a void the dead have left for me.”

Felix solely looked at him. He could feel his eyes growing tired, but with a single command, they obeyed him and his gaze was sharp and focused.

The king started to look intently at his lance, reflecting his face in the steel. “I have done terrible things. Things that not only concerned those around me, but also myself. Sometimes, the scars I bear only to my own stupidity hurt during rainy days. In my nightmares, I can still feel their blades sinking into my skin. Their cries for my death while those who already died told me to avenge them. A never-ending cycle of my desire to die and the force to live on.”

The duke reflected his actions – he pulled the steel out of its sheath and looked at the blade, saw his face reflected and wondered about the boar. He remembered how he shoved away all help that was offered, how he threatened their former professor to kill her, how he continued to fight even though Mercedes, their professor and Marianne forbade him to do so with his wounds. The blood that was splattered on his face during Grondor.

“Without Byleth, I would have died a miserable death. Faergus would be in ruins, destroyed by Cornelia, suffering with hunger and war, without a king to lead them. The empire’s force would be too great to oppose and the emperor”, he still refused to speak her name, ever since he regained his sanity, “would have created this continent to her own accord. But now, everything has changed.”

The way his voice wavered, how it broke in the middle of a sentence, was strong enough to force Felix to stare at his hands.

“We were capable to take back the capital, we have rebuilt Faerghus and Fódlan and we live in a time of peace. The people have enough to eat and enough wood to warm them when winter is coming. The business between the kingdom and the church are progressing.”

Felix wasn’t surprised to hear that – there were often times when he had accompanied the king to Garreg Mach in order to speak with the archbishop about matters at hand; the western church, the treaties of Brigid, Dagda, Almyra and Duscur, the orphaned children and the emergencies of the poor and sick. Even though some discussion could have been described as heated, conclusions were drawn to the satisfaction on both sides.

“I can atone for the sins I have done in the past. With everything that I am and everything that is in my power, I will make sure that this country can finally live in peace and tranquility; so that future generations won’t repeat the mistakes of us.”

It felt like a stone fell from a very high cliff, inching closer to the ground and nearly bursting the earth beneath them. The duke felt the tension rise in his shoulder and prepared himself for the impact.

“Rodrigue did the same for us.”

The name fell. Felix was no idiot. He had a vague idea what Dimitri had wanted to ask him.

And the sheer helplessness he felt in his bones was terrifying.

“Without his resources and his aid, we would never have been able to proceed forward, let alone win this war. He gave me Arredhbar, he saved my life by sacrificing his own. And that is something I will never be able to repay.” He felt his senses sharpening, hearing the gulp of his throat. “It is something I can never make up to you-“

“My father decided this on his own. I’m not my old man, boar.” His tone was like a razor, sharp and unyielding. Felix gripped on to the sheath in his hand. “Don’t even dare to make connections between us two that do not exist.” Never existed. Will never exist. “Just spit it out what you want to tell me before my blade finds you.”

Silence. It was unnerving. The opposite of reassuring. He remembered Rodrigue’s death – he died with a smile on his face, sacrificing himself for the crown prince, now king. Dimitri was right – without his father, without the former Duke Fraldarius, they could never have even thought about winning the war. He gave them supplies, boosting morale, he gave them soldiers to increase their power and without him, the army would have been led by nothing but a mere beast to Enbarr, right into the arms of the Adrestian Emperor. They would have died and even worse, for nothing.

Rodrigue was the force behind them and Byleth had continued to lead them, making the best out of his sacrifice.

Felix closed his eyes; tried to imagine Annette’s humming, recalling it deep into his memory, letting it slide to the surface. But, with shock, he realized that even the sound of his wife wasn’t capable to soothe the demon in his head. Her voice enraged it – it spat at him, calling for the desire Felix harbored in his deepest and most primal moments.

“If my child is a boy, I wish to give him the name of your father. I came here to ask for your permission.”

Sixteen words. Sixteen words to let the demon come back and flap its wings and take the place in his head again.

Felix didn’t say anything. He stared at the sword in his hand and widened his eyes.

His fingers were shivering, his hand trembled.

The sword felt like a dead weight in his palm.

Dimitri stayed there, sat next to him and looked at the lance in his hands.

Minutes passed. It felt like hours.

Prince Rodrigue Blaiddyd. Son to Byleth Eisner and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the holy kingdom of Faerghus. What a joke.

_Of course, that’s it_ , the demon cackled.

_Rodrigue wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise. He died for this monster, you know. The least he can do is remind you until the end of your life that your father loved him more than you._

_He’s mocking you and there’s no way you can fight back._

_What about Glenn?_

The sword clattered on the ground, the echo sharp through the space around them and Felix left the king to sit there without any other spoken word.

* * *

“ _ **He died like a true knight.”**_

_Action and reaction. One of his first tutors taught him about decision making. Never hesitate, always go forward. And the son of Duke Fraldarius, now the only heir left, followed his tutor’s advice and raised his hand._

_He was thirteen when he raised his hand against his father. It was the first and the last time. The slap echoed through the dining hall and everything came to a halt. Time stood still._

_Felix stood on his spot and his limbs froze. His eyes widened, his stomach churning he was assured that the dinner he previously ate would find a quick exit out of his mouth._

_He heard the gasp from Ingrid, father, son, and his once promised daughter-in-law alone in the grand hall. It was too enormous, too big for a boy like him. He was only thirteen, after all._

_A deep sigh escaped his father’s nose, exhaling thoroughly and slowly. He heard something crack in the room and he fell to his knees. Cold sweat pouring down his temple and his heart beat thudding in his ears. One, two, three, four. And again._

_One, two, three, four._

_And once more._

_One, two, three, four._

_His pulse resembled a melody._

_One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._

_Why couldn’t it just stop at this moment? Why couldn’t the rhythm cease and the singing stop?_

_Something was born in his head. In his heart, in his body. In his hand._

_He hit his father. He hit Duke Fraldarius._

_And he wanted to disappear._

“ _ **Glenn would have never done something like that. Never.”**_

“ _ **Are you proud of yourself right now? Did you do the right thing?”**_

“ _ **Glenn would be ashamed to see you like that. You humiliated your brother’s sacrifice by bringing**_

_**shame to your father.”** _

“ **I’m disappointed, Felix.”**

_And it’s there. Glenn’s voice. The soft, yet rough organ of his brother. The one who sacrificed his life for the greater good._

_A true knight. Someone he will never even be able to compare to._

_How can someone compete with the dead? Their deeds will always be remembered._

_In the end, the dead always win._

_Felix looked to the right. Ingrid’s eyes were widened, as big as plates, her green eyes laced with shock and…was that disgust? Hatred? Dissident?_

_He hit his father. Right in the face. He dared to lay a hand against a man he will never reach. The shield of Faerghus. The right hand to his majesty._

_The dead king. Another dead one._

_He hurt Ingrid. His father would have been her father too. In another life, in another world, in another reality._

_In a world where Dimitri died and Glenn got to live._

_The golden girl’s face changed. She didn’t look angry, or sad, or anything._

_She was disappointed. A look he knew all too well._

_Disappointment. He was never good enough. He was not Glenn. They looked similar but he wasn’t the one she loved. Had loved._

_He’d be heir. But only because he had to. He was the second. Not the first._

_She rose from her position and her green eyes sparkled with the emotion so incredibly strong, that Felix had to tear his gaze away. He gulped and felt something prickle in his eyes._

“ _Felix.”_

_The duke’s voice rose. Boomed through the room. Cut his breath short. The shield of Faerghus took the word._

_But he stayed silent. And that silence was filled with the same thing._

_Disappointment._

_The melody resumed._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_Felix. Sylvain. Ingrid. Dimitri. G-_

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_No five. Only four._

_Felix. Sylvain. Ingrid. Dimitri. –_

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_He just wanted it to stop. Cease the melody and the rhythm._

_Why didn’t it work?_

* * *

“Felix. Wake up, sleepy head!”

Two hands shook him awake and a soft voice reached his ears. And instead of a gruesome and disappointing melody, he heard the hymn of an angel, soothing his nerves and head and he let out a deep breath.

He cracked his eyes open. Only for a little bit. The silhouette sitting close by his side was close to a fairy. Blue eyes, sparkling in the faint light. Orange hair, wispy flames framing her cheeks. Lovely skin, clear and a deep valley between her eyebrows.

“Hey.” A hand was placed on his cheek. Her voice was firm, strong. Her thumb wiping underneath his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Everything was alright. Nothing was okay.

He finally opened his eyes and caught his angel’s hand in his, pressing it closer to his skin, nuzzling her finger. “Annette,” his voice croaked and it terrified him, “what time is it?”

The light engulfing them was nothing but a flickering candle. Its little flame playing a game on his wife’s face, casting a red hue on her cheeks and her lips and she titled her head while looking at him. He saw the darkness from the window and he realized he lay on the couch in his office, normally reserved for his wife whenever she decided to visit him.

“It’s long after midnight. You didn’t come to bed, so I went looking for you.” Her other joined his other cheek and her thumbs continued to caress his face, a certain rhythm in her finger.

Rhythm, melody.

_One, two, three, four-_

He shot up, grabbed her hands and surprised her with widened eyes-

_Ingrid’s disappointment-_

“Felix?” Her tone went higher, her hands leaving his cheeks and grabbing his own. Her wedding ring felt cool against his skin. “What’s wrong?” Her voice quietened down the terror in his head and the quick melody of his heart slowed down. “Did something happen?”

Would she be disappointed too? Would she look at him with the same gaze and simply push him away? Would he hear her hymns ever again after he told her about it?

“Annette,” He spoke slowly, carefully. He needed to prepare himself. This was a battle he had never fought before and no training could have made him aware of the things to come. “Dimitri…asked me something.”

She caressed his fingers, her fingers skimming lightly over his crooked digits. “What did he ask you?,” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“He…he wishes to name his child after my father when it becomes a boy.”

Silence fell over them.

She was upset. She was disappointed. If she’d be happy about the thought and ask him why he would be so fussy about it. It was an honor, to have the crown prince bear the name of such a hero.

“Felix….”

She was disappointed. He averted his gaze, shut his eyes and intervened his fingers, balling them to a tight fist and he felt the melody return once more.

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

Felix. Sylvain. Ingrid. Dimitri. Gle-

“Do you not want him to?”

But instead of disappointment, he was only faced with her soothing tone. Her own melody, triumphing over his own. At least for a moment. But Felix didn’t hesitate to seize it up at all cost.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He lets out a shaking breath. “Do I really want to look at the boy and remind myself what happened between my father and me?”

He hit him. He despised him. He hated him. Called him mad and a fool.

In the last months of his life, he never called him what he was. He was always the old man towards him, never his father.

“I-I won’t be able to look after him and not see the person he is. He will never be Dimitri’s or Byleth’s son to me, but a living being reminding me what mistakes I have done.” He started to ramble and Annette’s tender touches stopped all of a sudden.

He shut his mouth.

“Felix.” Her fingertips found his palm, sliding across his lines and the marks he received when he decided to pursue the goal of strength.

She encompassed him around his shoulders, pulling him close against her chest and her fingers found his hair, combing through his locks and he felt his shoulder tremble. Her tender touch, his safe haven.

For a moment, he thought that everything was going to be alright. He closed his eyes, buried his face into her skin and took a shaking breath. And another one. Until all oxygen escaped his mouth peacefully, like a rhythm. He heard her heartbeat. The lullaby for the last resort.

In this silence, in this tranquility, when his heart was calm and his thoughts peaceful, his heart was capable to open itself. Its doors were opened and no warrior in sight to d efend the entrance.

The feeling of the budding tears in his eyes terrified him. His greatest fear, the terror.

During the war, all fear was rapid. It went as quick as it came. The worries that plagued his mind were woven around survival, protecting his loved ones. He was capable to change the situation, to actively change the outcome.

But this? Felix hated it to be passive. It was not his way of life.

There were still so many moons to come and go. The heir to the throne was far away from ready to enter this world. And with every day to come, with every dawn and every sun fall, a demon would take its time to pester his head and take place. Worries were gnawing and would whisper until everything would be over.

“ **I think the most important thing in life is to think for yourself. Don’t make decisions because you think they please others. Your life is none of their business. It is yours and yours alone.”**

How was he supposed to think for himself when there was nothing but a barrier in his head, keeping him away from heeding his brother’s words?

_**What about Glenn?** _

He bit his lip. He tasted blood. Iron, metal, fire, war, _the tragedy…_

_Grondor. A girl who stabbed former Duke Fraldarius in the back. A dagger meant for the boar, and not for him. But he took it anyway. Because Rodrigue loved Dimitri like his own son._

_He hit him. In front of his once meant daughter-in-law. He raised his hand against his own father. The man who gave him so many chances in life. Without him, they’d all be dead by now._

“I hit my father once.”

The words tumbled out faster than he could react. Annette’s hand stopped once more and he took a deep breath. The taste of blood coated his tongue in a thick layer and he distanced himself from Annette’s hold.

But her hand sought out his and he intervened their fingers. Their wedding bands gleamed in the light of the candle.

“ It was after the tragedy. After Glenn died. Ingrid was here and she told me she wanted to become a knight.” A scoff escaped him. Annette’s fingertips ran over the back of his hand. “I thought it was foolish.  She didn’t want to relent, having this ideal of hers when the man she loved died because of it – because he fulfilled his duty as a knight, instead of being his own person. Besides, the words my father spoke at his funeral were the main trigger to that idiotic idea of hers.”

Six words. Six words were capable to give birth to hopeless ideals, hatred, nightmares, guilt.

The duke felt himself take a deep breath. Those words were acid in his mouth.

“’ **He died like a true knigh** t’.”

He could still see his father standing in front of Glenn’s coffin. Felix sitting in the first row on the right side, his mother and brother gone with the boar on the left side, surrounded by  advisers , loyal to the prince. Ingrid right behind him and Sylvain present with his family in the chapel.  They were all witnesses.

“What happened then?”

Annette’s voice chased away the picture of Glenn’s coffin. He tightened his hold on her hand.

“We got into a fight. I’ve told her that it’s foolish and things escalated. My father intervened, told me to be silent and that I disgrace the sacrifice that he brought. A sacrifice for the greater good – he gave his life for Dimitri, so he could ascend the throne one day. My father always put the kingdom first, his family was only second to him. I realized that at this moment.” He gulped. He could feel the echo of his slap ring in his ears, over and over. “I hit him. Right in front of Ingrid. She saw everything.”

Silence. Wax ran down the candle, pooling on the bottom of its holder and its flame was flickering only a little bit. It nearly ran out and faded.

“Do you regret it?”

Good question: did he?

“I do.”

Suddenly, Annette’s weight fell into his shoulder and he wrapped his free arm around her torso and pulled her into his collarbone. “Can I be honest, Felix?”

He buried his nose into her hair. “Of course.”

“Sometimes, I wish I had done that too. To my own father.”

Silence ensued between them and Felix felt his limps freeze. The lump was formed inside his throat and cut of all oxygen.

It felt like a mirror was held right in front of his face. But he didn’t see his own reflection – he saw Annette years ago, when she met her father for the first time in years, tears brimming in her eyes and hiding her face. Back then, he thought that even her sobs resembled a melody that no one could copy.

“Whenever we talked, he ran away. He said the same thing, all the time – that he didn’t have the right to be with me or my mother after Duscur. He told me he was responsible for the tragedy, that he couldn’t protect the royal family and due to that, he left us without any other word. I wondered where he was, if he was alright or why he did what he did.” Her breathing got shaky, her words stumbling as if she were talking too fast. But instead, she skipped every second word because she couldn’t control the trembling in her voice. “Most of the time, I was sad… I-I didn’t know if there was something I could do or even change the situation somehow. But there were moments where I...was angry.”

Her arms around his torso got closer, squeezing a part of the oxygen out of his lungs, but he reciprocated her, encouraged her touch. “I’ve wanted to hit some sense into him. I could feel my hands twitch and I was afraid. Afraid of myself, afraid of the feelings I harbored.” A painful laugh escaped her lips. “I’ve wanted to see him for so long, to finally find out what drove him to leave us and I see him again and I want to hit him...my own father.”

Her breath cut short and a small sob sneaked out. But before she could continue, she wiped away the beginning of tears in her eyes and put one of her hands in his lap. Like a moth to the flame, his hand sought out hers and their fingers intervened once more. “It reminded me so much when you told me that and I’m sorry that I spoke of myself when you’re troubled right now-”

“Stop it.” His grip brought their hands upwards and he saw the glistening in her bright blue eyes. “It’s alright. In fact, I am grateful that you told me.” He let his hands slip from her own and cupped her cheeks, running his thumb over her rosy skin. “It makes things easier.”

She put her own hands on his. “I am with you, Felix. No matter what happens.”

He kissed her forehead. Enjoyed the silence. Free from any melody or rhythm or the voice that’d haunt him by now.

“Do you want me to sing you a song?”

The request was quiet.

“Yes.”

His response was even quieter.

She began to hum. A small tune, crawling into his head and he accepted her arms when she enveloped him in her embrace, putting his ear against her chest and listening to her heartbeat and the vibrations that rang through her body.

The melody remained peaceful and Felix fell asleep with her humming on the edge of his dreams.

* * *

The weeks after the king’s visit became peaceful.

Talks about their territories were still held, diplomatic rounds being held between the duke and king and when business was done, Dimitri apologized himself and decided rather spontaneously to leave for Fhirdiad again.

So he left. Without any big words, with his own guard, thanking the Duke and Duchess for their hospitality. A blue eye met amber ones and Felix stiffened.

His answer was not done yet. He was still unsure. The memories became more frequent over time, the nightmare of him hitting his father visited him once again during the nights. From this point on, he spent the majority of many nights by the window in his chambers, looking at the lone moon in the sky and despising the fact that he can’t turn time forward.

Annette looked at him in worry. She, as well, started to sleep more restless, sometimes even joining him when he watched the moon and the stars. They’d be without words – she would still be too tired to speak any word and he’d accept her embrace silently with open arms, tugging her close against his chest and burying his nose in her hair. Catching the scent that let his heart beat a thousand miles an hour and yet, put it into a steady beat.

But one day, he didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky to be married to her.

Namely the sight of the ‘Sword of Faerghus’, the greatest of all knights in the kingdom, slowly coming closer to his home was enough to make his eyes narrow and aim for the main entrance. When he reached the outside, Annette was already there, greeting their friend and his counterpart.

The woman who would have been his sister in another time. In another life.

“I’m so happy that you made it. I hope the journey was okay? Was it too sudden for you? Is Sylvain alright?”

“No need to worry, Annette. I’m happy to help, you know it.”

The gentle tone of her voice plus the look she sent him when she caught his face in her eyesight reminded him too much of a time that had already passed – when they talked to each other in their childhood, how she encouraged his unique way of thinking, when she told him that she wanted to protect those she held dear.

Kind. Compassionate. A sister, through and through. Not related by blood or name or marriage, but simply by being together.

Annette turned from their friend and once comrade to look at him and the intensity of both their gazes took the sword from his hand and rendered him defenseless and speechless.

Ingrid’s green eyes were filled with patience when she took him in, a small smile on her lips.

“It’s good to see you, Felix.”

Damn. Marriage did her better than he could have ever imagined.

“Annette didn’t tell me much in her letter. She simply asked me to come here.”

When dinner was done, Annette had suggested that both her husband and their guest could take a stroll through the gardens. Despite the beginning of the Harpstring Moon, the air was crispy cold. With fur on their shoulders and providing enough warmth for last for an indefinite span of time, both Duke Fraldarius and Margravine Gautier strolled through the gardens.

“That’s so like her.”

“Felix.” The tone of her voice was just the same. Some thing probably never change. “What’s wrong?”

He let out a hiss, escaping through his teeth. “It’s...”

_...none of your business,_ he wanted to say.  And it was basically true – Ingrid would continue to serve the royal family, no matter which name the throne heir carried. Be it a girl or a boy, she’d do her best to ensure its safety. 

But there was the other side. From all persons in this universe, she was the one who could understand him best. She knew him ever since they were babies, played together in their childhood and once shared the same foolish sentiment.  Once upon a time, s he h ad been engaged to his brother, she was supposed to be his sister one day.

They would have been family.

The duke sighed. “Dimitri was here.”

The margravine tilted her head. Waited for a response.

“He asked me something.”

The sight of her green eyes staring right through him was unnerving.  Stubbornness, pride but also kindness and patience. She was waiting for him, waiting for him to speak the words he held on his tongue. 

They shared history. A history that gives her the possibility to understand everything behind the curtain. And although he loved Annette with all his heart, she didn’t know everything.

“When his child is born...” His heart stepped back, but rushed forward when his shoulders weighed down. “If it’s a boy, he wants him to carry the name of my father.”

She held in a deep breath. He saw her chest rising and fell with a gentle ripple. A small breath escaped her lips and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She stayed quiet and he saw the gears in her head running.

“You knew about it.”

“’Knew’ is the wrong word – I’ve suspected as much.” She directed her gaze back to him. Her eyes spoke the truth. And the same hint of sadness crossed her eyes that he knew like the back of his hand. “The last time I was in Fhirdiad, her majesty hasn’t told me about their ideas of names; she just hinted that they thought about naming their child after a person very dear to them. There weren’t many persons I could have thought off, besides your father.” He saw the nervous drum of her fingers on her arm.

“Do you remember the day when you were here for dinner?” A pause, his voice growing quieter. “After the tragedy.”

She whipped her head into his direction, staring at him in a mix of shock and surprise, but her lips were put into a frown. She knew what he was talking about, solely from the way her eyes looked on the ground between them. Her fingers found her thin necklace hidden by her robes, but he knew that she was rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.

He looked upwards, into the sky. The slap echoed in his ears, setting the end of every of his nerves on fire and he could already feel the pounding of a headache behind his temples. “You are the only one who understands this whole pile of shit.” A groan was torn out of his throat. It could be so easy – just say no and be done with everything’s fine. The boar had to live with that.

But the green eyes of Ingrid looking at him made his new resolve crumble. “I have an idea.”

His eyes narrowed. The way the blonde looked at him told him the one thing that he had expected in the first place: being married to Sylvain Gautier and wearing his family name rubbed off on her too much. “What.”

“Maybe a quick spar will get your thoughts cleared out?”

His shoulders lowered. Felix looked at the blonde knight and turned on his heels and went to the one place that he called home right next to his bedroom.

Ingrid caught up to him, walking right by his side. A constant support.

* * *

Upon reaching the battle grounds, both of them reached for their weapon of choice – a simple wooden sword for the Duke and a training lance for the Margravine. They took off their furs, Ingrid pulled her necklace from underneath her tunic and Felix pulled on his gloves.

“Doesn’t that remind you of our Academy days? When was the last time we’ve done something like that?”

“Stop talking. Concentrate on this, Ingrid.” A huff out of his mouth. “I swear, ever since you married Sylvain, you’ve grown softer.”

“I can say the same about you, Felix.”

And the heat shot up in his cheeks like a bird for its pray in the highest tree. “Stop talking. Let’s begin.”

A gentle smile. “Whatever you say.”

Both of them stood still on their two feet, pondering. Waiting for the other. Thunder and lightning were echoing through the halls when their weapons clashed on each other. Wood, no metal.

Ingrid was still a formidable opponent. Although their weapons were different, she was a warrior that was equal to him. But something seemed off.

She had always been quick on her feet. Though it seemed to be enhanced at this point. Like a dancer, every step of hers was calculated, a natural study of movements. Her jabs were fierce, strong and precise. She seemed to know exactly where to hit him to get him of his balance.

Standing on the balls of feet, she let her foot glide over the floor and jumped forward, held the spear horizontal in front of her chest and caught his hit cleanly. And when he tried to sneak his way to her side, being left wide open, she adapted immediately, leaning back and holding the weapon perfectly to defend both her vital points.

Another fierce jab. The clashes of their weapons made his blood boil, his focus sharper and his concentration was rock solid. All of his five senses were on high alert and it felt like everything see was happening so much lower.

Another glide over the floor. And with a clash, they stood opposite to each other, their weapons pushed against each other. Green eyes looked at him, fierce like the warrior she was and determined to strike them down. There was nothing that could stop her now.

She has grown. Not only as a person, although he wasn’t the best judge of that, but especially as a warrior. Time has passed and they grew up.

Or so he thought.

Ingrid jumped back, her face drawn into a fierce expression, he watched her hands – resting closely together on her lance, she leaned to her side, bend her knees a little bit and released her hand from her weapon to swing it completely at his side.

He caught it in the right time, but the hit rumbled through his entire body, his limbs shivering underneath the impact.

And for the saint’s sake, his eyes widened. The melody returned, his heart pounding and the demon laughed at him.

It wasn’t Ingrid anymore, standing in front of him. But someone else.

A person he had thought to slowly forget.

Glenn. His brother was holding his lance the exact same way he always he did and the posture he became famous for in the kingdom. The technique that granted him the possibility to become one of the youngest knights in the history. Glenn Ludwig Fraldarius, having died over eleven years ago, was right in front of him.

It couldn’t be true. This was just nonsense. Complete nonsense. His brother was in his grave, being buried in the same spot his father, his mother and all his ancestors.

He gritted his teeth. Cursed this demon inside his head and lunged forward. His grip was strong, as tight as possible and his movements became sharper, more precise and he could see so many things. His focus was incomparable and the last time he fought this fierce was back in Enbarr, during their last battle against the emperor.

What a comparison. How cruel this world truly was.

But Glenn looked at him with this smug look, his lips neither in a frown or smile, but still showing more emotion than anyone could account him for.

Felix didn’t care. No matter if his brother stood right in front of him, he didn’t care. He simply lunged at him, his blade ready for any battle that he could fight.

The weapons were pressed against each other. Both of them put their entire strength against the other. But Felix was stronger. Stronger than _this._

So with a final push, he had his opponent falling on the back and the picture changed. Instead of a male face, a female came up. Instead of long blue hair, blonde bound together in a bun. A crash echoed through the space around them and Ingrid looked up, green eyes staring into his amber ones.

She huffed, a quiet laugh escaped her when she sat up, her hands on the ground. “Not bad.”

Felix’s eyes remained narrow. He looked at her hand, saw her wedding band around her ring finger and the weapon of her choice right next to her. “You’ve gotten better.”

“Wow, a compliment. Didn’t think I’d hear something like that from you.”

“Take it as you will.”

“I will, thank you.” In one graceful movement, Ingrid rose from her position and he saw her disheveled hair, her red cheeks and the smile on her face. “And?”

He frowned. “And what?”

“Did it help?”

From the way she looked at him, how she tilted her head and put her hands on her h ips , the truth got even more real now. 

Being married to Sylvain really let her change. And he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

“It did.”

The path seemed clearer. The end wasn’t yet in sight, but he could see the silhouette.

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

“You’re welcome, Felix.”

* * *

“Annette?”

It was well past midnight and when Annette Fantine Fraldarius wasn’t fast asleep in their bed, she probably tried to get one of the many things done that she had planned. The kitchen, the library, her study room or her one room she used whenever she did something she normally didn’t do.

The library was always his first stop and many times his last.

From around one of the many bookshelves, he could see a lone lamb flickering through the darkness of the room. Her humming accompanied filled the quiet and he solely followed the sound of her voice. He found her on her favorite spot, the broad desk that he specifically prepared for her when they had gotten married. Sitting hunched over a stack of papers with a feather quill in her right hand and surrounded by thick tomes that it would probably take only one to kill someone, she was still in her everyday clothes with her hair bound to a ponytail.

Only a couple of meters away, he watched her. Listened to her soft hums. Saw how she checked something on the papers with an information in the book and frowned shortly. Her humming stopped and something like a pouting sound escaped her mouth. “This doesn’t add up. But why?  If I compare the way this is written and it is spoken in our language, this should be one in the same. Maybe it’s the pronunciation? Maybe a letter isn’t spoken at all? Or there is something-” 

“Annette?”

A cry. A sudden squeak and Annette shot up from her seat in one motion to grab the closest book and hold it over her head. Ready to hit him and probably knock him out. She turned around, her blue eyes widened in fear and shock and her lips formed to a sneer when the realization hit her all of a sudden and she squeaked again.

She really was adorable.

“Felix! Did you never learn to not sneak up to people and give them the fright of their life?”

“I’ve called you twice, Annette.” He looked up to the book in her hands. “And you probably were more than enough prepared to knock me out with this book.”

She began to blush, the color of her cheeks resembling the tone of her hair. “A-anyways.” She lowered the book. She titled her head. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s the middle of the night and you didn’t come to bed. Wanted to check if you fell asleep again over the books.”

“What? It’s the middle of the night?” One quick look to the outside was sufficient for the information and the blush intensified. “Oh no, I completely forgot the time! I came here right after dinner and wanted to get so much done today and I lost all my sense.”

He looked over her shoulder.”What exactly are you doing? Maybe I can help.”

And the sight of her eyes beaming in joy about his interest was enough to drive the sleep away and to focus on her. “The prof- uhm, her majesty gave me this book the last time I was in Fhirdiad. An old tome about some ancient spells that were in the church’s hands until she became archbishop. I’ve written everything from the book on paper so I could compare it to other tomes. And I-”

“Annette, what is this?”

She stopped in her speaking, followed his gaze and he saw her blush again. “Uhm, well...” She drew out the last syllable probably longer than necessary, giggled  embarrassed and reached for the small thing she had left in the corner of her desk. “I thought I’d be done quicker so I took it with me  to continue to work on it until I become tired. I guess that wasn’t the right choice.”

“It’s...” He looked at his, sharpened his focus and rose his eyebrow. “A stuffed animal?”

Another giggle, a nervous one. “Yes, well, I wanted to do something for  his majesty’s child. You know, something to give them when he or she is born.” She reached for the little thing plus needle and threat and put it right next to the paper where she has written her spell. “Merci sent me a description how to do it and I really wanted to try, since she wanted to make something similar. She suggested that I make something big and she makes something small since you need to be really precise when you do the small things. So I started this a while ago and I really hope I get it done before he or she’s born.” She held it out for him and he got reminded of a teddy bear. “I still need to sew the buttons, the eye, nose and mouth and I thought about wrapping a ribbon around the neck. Maybe blue since we’re the blue lions and it will be the first child one of us has.” 

Their eyes met and the color returned to her face in one fell swoop. “A-anyways, let’s get started on this spell. I rambled too much again, didn’t I? Uh-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure the baby will like it.”

And the way she looked at him from underneath her eyelashes made him absolutely melt. Of course, he’d never admit that, though some part of him brought him to smile and put his hand on her head. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I know the boar hasn’t much sense of taste, but Byleth will be happy about it.”

“Felix!”

From her  aghast gasp, he leaned over her and looked at the paper. With one last exchange of glances, she was conquered and she started to explain the spell that she worked on. She forgot to mention that it was already the fourth one out of the book and that it was probably the reason why she often spent her time in the library. 

Hours passed. They still couldn’t find the difference between the written and the spoken word, although they did try it out with all the ways they thought about pronouncing the words they needed to speak. But the night slowly turned into dawn and Felix had to stifle a yawn when he rose from his position. Annette followed.

“Say, Felix, how did the talk with Ingrid go?”

The yawn was interrupted and he let his shoulders fall. Combing through his loose ponytail, he sat down again and noticed with surprise how his wife still seemed to awake after such an all-nighter. “There is something I’ve wanted to ask you, Annette.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I would like to go to Fhirdiad. Speak with Byleth. Do you want to come with me to get some sweets from that shop you like so much?”

And the way her eyes brightened at the idea was enough of an answer.

* * *

Fhirdiad was as lively as ever. And the line in front of her favorite bakery was still as long as ever. But his wife insisted and he didn’t mind, even when she came out with way more than usual whenever they visited the capital. “For her majesty and Merci too, of course!”

They reached the castle slower than usual, thanks to all the things happening in the city. Every time Felix set his eyes on the structure with its high walls and imposing atmosphere, something old woke up inside of him and he was always happy if he could leave it behind him.

His wife by his side and with an usual big basket in her arms, they were led on by one of the castle’s guards. Annette’s words of encouragement and anticipation eased the ball of lead inside his stomach and watched with keen interest over her conversation with the guard, asking him all kinds of questions and responding to all his answers  with her own thoughts. Listening to them talking made it easier. 

And yet, the sight of the queen sitting in one of the many pavilions across the castle’s gardens let him gulp, his fingers stretching in his gloves. Felix caught the look of his wife from the corner of his eyes and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Your majesty, Duke and Duchess Fraldarius have just arrived.”

Byleth rose her head from her book, green hair following the light breeze and she began to smile at the sight of them. “Thank you very much.”

The guard saluted, bowed to him and Annette and left his post without further inquiry.

“Professor!” With quickened pace, she set the basked on the ground and embraced the queen with her usual fervor, her curls bouncing with every step. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Just Byleth, please,” she said and laughed quietly when his wife began to pout. “Likewise, Annette. It’s been moons, hasn’t it?”

“That’s true.” She grasped her hands tightly and Byleth titled her head. “Is the study of the tome processing?”

“Absolutely, although there are still some spells that need some more work to figure out.”

“I’m certain that it will pose no problem for you. If you need any further research material, just say the word and we’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you!”

Her eyes fell on him and Felix stepped forward, right next to the red head. “Byleth.”

“Felix. It’s good to see you.” And the way her eyes glittered with a knowing gleam, they both were d’accord of the things they still needed to talk about. She tilted her head and gestured to the seating possibilities around her. “Please, take a seat. You’re reminding me of all those nobles who wouldn’t shut up and this is neither the nor place to think about it.”

It brought a smile on Felix’s lips and a laugh from Annette and both of them took their seats. Byleth straightened from the chair she sat on, putting the book to the side and conversation came easy to them. And while Annette told her about the spells from the book she had received from queen and archbishop, Felix took his time to look at her – her green hair was bound to a ponytail that fell over her right shoulder, her green eyes looking at Annette, nodding and giving her own remarks about their discussion. The white fabric of her dress that reached her swollen feet and the fabric that was stretched over her pregnant belly.

The last time he had seen her was right after they told them the news. Back then, there was not much to see and you were supposed to look very hard to notice anything out of the ordinary; a couple of moons later and she looked like she’d burst at any minute.

“I’m not very sure if it’s well made but I really wanted to try it.”

He watched how the queen, the fierce warrior during the war, the once famous ‘Ashen Demon’ held a teddy bear in her hands, her thumbs brushing over all the little buttons in the middle.  Her smile was small but it held much more in it than he could have once expected of her. “It’s lovely. I’m sure the baby will love it. Thank you, Annette. Truly.”

“But wait, there’s more!” And with those words, she packed out all the things in the magic basket she didn’t want him to see: the teddy bear, the little bag of sweets from her favorite bakery, a blanket with silver lines and ornaments stitched on the outside of the blue fabric, a bottle of perfume and two books at the bottom. “Picture books,” she explained and laughed sheepishly when Byleth’s lap was filled by all the gifts, “for the baby.”

“Thank you, Annette. I will make sure to put them to good use.”

A call interrupted them and it was one full of glee. “Annie?”

From her spot, Annette rose her head and jumped from her seat at the sight of her old friend  coming at them with quick steps and she nearly jumped into the arms of her best friend. “Merci, goddess!” 

“It’s so good to see you.” Both women started to laugh. Exchanged pleasantries.

“Do you wish to talk?”

Felix directed his attention back to his former professor. She looked at him with that glint and the communication was silent. “Maybe take a walk?”

His eyes fell shortly on his wife, watching how she re bonded with her best friend after moons of being apart. They’d be just fine. “After you.”

* * *

“Dimitri had the idea.” With her right hand on the top and her left on the bottom of her belly, Byleth waddled more than walked. Their pace was slow, leisurely and she often stood still to look at the various flower beds that surrounded them. “It took a while for him to admit it, though. He was scared to even mention it.”

“That’s typical for him,” he gritted out, sighed deeply when the green eyes of the queen looked at him in a challenging manner and she titled her head. “I’ve wished to ask for your opinion.”

“Mine?” She blinked owlishly and Felix rolled his eyes. “Why do you ask for mine?”

“It is your child as well. And besides, you are an outsider; without your head, I’m sure your husband would have led us right into our doom.”

She looked at him, focused and pointing, and he felt the pressure on his face. “Things have changed, Felix. I am sure that this is something even you can’t deny.” Her voice was sharp and with the small edge that let him shut his mouth. “Dimitri’s dark side will always be present, it’s a part of him that just like the rest. Time and circumstances made him to the person he was and your father knew that as well. And that is exactly the reason why your father did what he did.”

Felix inhaled sharply through his teeth. Strike, pierce and end. They came to a halt and he watched how her hands grasped her belly tighter. “Lord Rodrigue did what he could. He knew about the things he had done and his first priority was to make sure that Faerghus would be safe. And he achieved that. Dimitri is king and we finally have peace after five years filled with war.”

He gritted his teeth, looked at the flower bed right next to his feet. He in- and exhaled deeply and the melody was only a far cry from his ears. “My father’s priority was clear. Ever since my brother died, I knew what was the most important thing in his life.” His heart pounded against his chest. “First, he was a knight for the king and only second to that he was a father.”

“He knew that as well.” And the queen’s words were enough to let him bite on his tongue. “He knew that the words he spoke about your brother made you hate him. He was fully aware of that. And I think that it wasn’t easy for him. To know that his priorities weren’t with you in the first place but the second. But he never forgot you, Felix.” Her voice was quiet, but the strength that lay in her organ made his shoulders tremble. “He ensured a future where we all live in peace.”

Silence. Only the faint wind rang through his ears and let the tip of his ponytail dance. “He spoke to you?”

Another round of silence. “He asked me to take care of Dimitri and Faerghus. To make sure that both will not be harmed in the war. He was worried about the future.” She blinked. “Don’t you believe that he had you in his mind when he thought about peace? He wanted you to have peaceful life, a life you can be proud of with your own decisions to make.” Her right hand wandered to the middle of her belly. And the sight of pure love on her face let him lower his defenses. “I can say for sure that he was very happy for you about Annette.”

His defense was risen immediately and he felt the red hue on his cheeks rise. “What?!”

A glint in her green eyes. “You were always so kind about her and didn’t lash out like you did with every one else. Your father was happy for you.”

“That damn old man-”

“Felix.”

Her voice was like a sword, cutting through the silence and the moment and she lowered her shoulders. “If you are happy, I think that’s all he ever wanted.” She followed his gaze to the flower bed next to their feet.

With sudden realization, Felix nearly wanted to laugh. How ridiculous. How could this happen to him?

Without Annette, he wasn’t sure where he’d be right now. And suddenly, a strange tranquility filled his bones and with a deep breath, he let his shoulders sink.

“Alright.”

Her eyebrow was risen and she tilted her head.

“Name your child after my father if he becomes a boy.”

Silence. Felix watched her face unfold – a smile spread on her lips and a spark in her eyes. He would never have expected her to show such raw emotion.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Only two hours later, Queen Byleth’s water broke and she went into labor.

* * *

In front of the chamber where their former professor lay, him and Annette were the only ones present. Mercedes had joined the procedure as quickly as possible and asked Dedue to take Dimitri anywhere else except the room. The king had relented under heavy protests but only thanks to his retainer did he join him to the training grounds.

His wife leaned against his shoulder, pulling his arm around her shoulders and holding it close to her chest. “Don’t you want to join them? His majesty and Dedue?” She looked at the white door, breathed through deeply through her nose and leaned her head against his collar bone. “It’s probably better than just sitting here around.”

“You are so short from falling asleep. You go to bed right now or we’ll stay here.”

A yawn cut of the words she wished to speak and she snuggled into his chest. A quiet protest escaped her lips but she rubbed her head against his shirt. “Whatever you say.” Another yawn escaped her mouth and only a couple of seconds, he listened to her deep breaths, watched how her chest rose with every inhale and fell with every exhale.

He pressed his lips against her temple, stroked her orange curls with the tips of his fingers and smiled a little bit when her head fit into the crook of his neck and she draped an arm around his hips.

To rest a little bit was pure temptation. He was sure that they’d wake up soon enough if the screams were starting. But until then, it wouldn’t be so bad to catch some shut-eye.

As soon as his eyes closed, Felix fell asleep.

* * *

Dawn greeted them with a ray of light and the screaming cry of a newborn baby. Dimitri returned and as soon as he heard the sound, he vanished in the room where the queen and the throne heir were staying, his steps hurried and clumsy. He nearly fell into the room.

Felix rolled his eyes, craned his neck a little bit and looked at his wife. Even with Byleth’s screams and the first sound the newborn baby made, she was still fast asleep. He always admired her ability to sleep so tight and peacefully and he was sure that the world around them had to end if they wanted to have any chance to wake her up.

Especially since he was a light-sleeper, ever since over a decade.

“Annette. Wake up.” He put his hand on her thigh and shook her gently. “The baby’s here.”

“What…?” Brabbling like a child, she opened her eyes and squinted them shut immediately, putting a hand against her mouth and yawning jaw-cracking. She shook her head, blinked multiple times and looked around. Seconds passed and in one moment, she was standing on her two feet, looking at him and the door and the cries of the baby inside were slowly calming down. “What did I miss? Felix-”

“The baby’s here.”

Her blue eyes started to sparkle. But her words were cut off when the door opened and Mercedes peeked outside with an exhausted, but wistful smile on her lips. “Do you want to come in?”

All three of them, Felix, Annette and Dedue, entered the room and his wife let out the tiniest squeal at the sight of the royal family, of king and queen with their child in their father’s arm.

Felix looked at Byleth and the look she gave him told him the answer to the question that lay in the room and hovered above their heads. “A boy. A strong and healthy prince.” She closed her eyes for a moment, but opened them and looked at the sight of father and son.

All three of them didn’t know which words to speak. In another time, the idea of this moment would have been laughable. But times have changed and the man who was once nothing but a wild beast sat by his wife’s side with his son in his arms, fast asleep with a tuft of blonde hair on his small head and cradled him close to his chest.

“Elias Rodrigue Blaiddyd.”

The name echoed through room and reflected against the walls. Dimitri looked at them, at him, and his blue eye was red with the tears he shed and were moist with those that were on the way to pour down. “That is his name.”

A weight leaned against his shoulder. A hand grabbed his own and he linked his fingers with the one who guided him through this darkness he himself had created.

But a light was on the horizon. And for a second, he saw his father’s satisfied smile.

The first one of the new generation to enter this time of peace. An era he fought for, with everything he had.

And it would stay this way, as long as he would live.

The weight against his side was his anchor. Their fingers intertwined was his weapon. And all the nightmares he may have whenever they made sense or not were his enemies.

It was a fight he was prepared for.

And he looked at the baby. Dimitri’s son.

It was a fight he wouldn’t lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, four things I need to get off my chest.  
> 1\. When I've read the note from Felix about him hitting his father, I couldn't help myself but to include that as the main point where father and son were divided. I already used it in my other oneshot, but the possible idea from Felix clashing with Rodrigue was too good to pass for some angst. And since Glenn is the touchiest subject between them, I used Duscur as the background.  
> 2\. When I've played Azure Moon and looked at the dialouge from Rodrigue, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that Faerghus was his first priority besides his family and it only strenghtened when Glenn died. Imagine believing in something so much and putting so much of your energy into it and then let it take your own son. Maybe I'm imagining things or this is just too weird, but I couldn't help myself but think that it maybe was a way for Rodrigue to cope with things. Especially the 'He died like a true knight' phrase - it seemed to me like he was trying to excuse it because his belief was so strong.  
> 3\. The main reason why I think Felannie is such a great ship is because they are both different in their personalities but their background is so similar. Both of them have fathers who devote everything to their home and their children suffer underneath it. Annette is sad about it and Felix is angry. I only noticed that when I wrote this, but now I know why I write in the first place.  
> 4\. I love the idea of Ingrid being a sister to Felix (although it's kinda obvious) but I think they really do click like 'brother-sister' in my opinion and since I love Ingrid, I couldn't stop to include her as well. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. If you have any criticism (especially about the way I see things since it's a delicate topic and I can imagine that it may not be the best) tell me, I am happy to hear it since I often need other perspectives to really understand this stuff. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and the bookmarks, I'm happy if you like the other pairings too.


	3. Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea saw right through him. Spoke out his greatest fears. Back then, he was afraid. 
> 
> On his wedding day, Sylvain gets confronted with all the things that plague his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done. Hoo boy. Ingrid is my favorite character and I just want to see my bby girl happy. 
> 
> Reason for black and white: I made Sylvain a dark knight in my Azure Moon play throughs and since Ingrid's pegasus is white and Sylvain's horse is black - well, it's kinda dumb, but that's the thing I thought of when I looked at them. 
> 
> Next one is probably gonna be Dedue and Mercedes. I'm curious to know when I will be able to finish that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the Kudos you've left me for this work. I didn't expect Lion and Lioness to burst out like that. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it! (Especially since it's about my five favorite ships. Seems I'm not doing that much wrong.)
> 
> English is not my first language. Please be aware of that.
> 
> [My story ideas, if anyone wants to get updated.](https://khadavengean.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Don't know why I chose Reflection as my inspiration for Sylvain, but it started playing and suddenly I was in so deep. Please send help.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNprQYHenNI)
> 
> [The music of their dance at the end.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07trJ-RexPg)

* * *

“ _So?” His tongue felt numb and dry, his lips coarse and he was sure that his blood started to freeze inside his veins. “What do you say?”_

_Ingrid looked at him, her green eyes as big as saucers and her mouth resembling a fish, being formed to an ‘O’. She looked at him in shock and Sylvain was sure that he’d explode at any given moment. His heartbeat was both quicker than lighting and slower than a snail. He felt the anxiety climb up his shoulders, putting its hands around his neck and putting only the smallest of pressure on his pulse._

_He remembered all the girls he had toyed with before and with all of them, he had the same reason. They wanted his crest, the aspect of becoming a noble’s wife and only serving as a brooding machine was t_ _he_ _interesting thing about_ _h_ _im_ _and Sylvain had wanted to s_ _pit_ _on their faces. His mouth drawn to a cynical grin and whenever his father made only the tiniest remark about him finding a wife soon enough, he felt the muscles tighten in his hands._

_He wanted to hit him. To hate him. To scream, to cry, to rip everything apart._

_But at a certain point, the wrath vanished and only a cold somberness spread through his veins like poison and he continued his charade. Through the years, it was his water and air and although Dimitri was often around to remind him about common sense, Sylvain thought nothing about it. ‘To hell with that’ was his devise._

_He blinked, feeling cold sweat form_ _ing_ _on his temples and forehead and drenching his red hair. The cold breeze of the_ _Wyvern_ _M_ _oon caressed his face with claws across his skin and he was sure that his heart would stop at any given moment-_

“ _Yes.”_

_One word. One word was enough to let the weigh succumb, to let the claws drift away. His water and air was replaced with the sight right in front of him, with his lovely Ingrid smiling at him, her green eyes watery and g_ _littering_ _in the light of the moon above them._

“ _Really?”_

_For being known as a smooth talker, he was sure to ask a stupid question._

“ _Yes. I accept your proposal, Sylvain.”_

“ _That’s-”_

_He felt the grin spread on his face and he t_ _hrew_ _his arms_ _upwards_ _. “She said yes, goddamnit!_ _YES!” He turned around. “Did you hear that world?!_ _Sothis!_ _She said yes!_ _She said freaking yes!_ _”_

_A laugh from the blonde knight and a blush on her cheeks and he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her. S_ _pinning_ _her_ _in circles_ _and her arms around his neck felt as natural as his arms attached to his body. “Oh goddess, Ingrid.” He pressed her close to him and set her on her feet. He cupped her cheeks, pressed their foreheads against each other and he was sure that his grin was nothing but dumb._

_A grin he would have laughed about a couple of moons, probably even summers, ago._

_But it was the first grin that really came straightly out of his heart._

“ _You really have no idea how happy you make me.” Sylvain embraced her and all thoughts of the other women he already embraced vanished. She was the only one to make his heart flutter like that, the only woman who let him feel whole._

“ _I guess I have a whole life in front of me to get the idea.”_

_Her cheeks in his hands, he smiled at her and wiped the couple of tears away from her skin. “I will make you happy Ingrid. There is nothing I wouldn’t give to achieve that.”_

“ _Likewise, Sylvain.” She tilted her head and bit her lip, pearls gathering at her lids._

_A sob out of her mouth, a happy one and she nodded, leaning into his touch and he leaned forward. He kissed her._

_N_ _ew_ _air filled his lungs and the water made him alive._

* * *

_His father nodded with the air of approval around him and Sylvain’s first instinct was to jump at him and strangle him alive. “I see. Congratulations to you two.”_

_His mother smiled at them, a_ _n apathetic_ _pleasantry_ _filled with pride. “Congratulations. I am very happy for you.”_

“ _Thank you, Margrave Gautier.” Ingrid bowed to her future parents-in-law, and his father, with his arms crossed, looked at him._

“ _I am sure that you two will be very happy. With you, Ingrid, our bloodline will truly be proud what you two will bring forth.”_

_It was the first thing to bring this weird taste into his mouth._

* * *

_Count Galatea’s eyes were piercing right through Sylvain’s chest. The fact that her two older brothers were sitting on his left and his right made the whole thing even more intimidating. “I see. I wasn’t expecting this marriage at all, to be honest.” His future father-in-law stood up from his seat at his desk and crossed his arms behind his back._

_Sylvain watched how her brothers exchanged glances. A lifting eyebrow from the older, a shrug from the younger one. Ingrid right next to him takes his hand and squeezes gently._

_Her father wasn’t blind. With pale blonde eyebrows, he let out a sigh. “But I am happy nonetheless.” And a small smile spread on the count’s lips. “I will entrust my daughter to you, Sylvain.” Then his voice received a certain edge. “Do not make me regret it.”_

“ _Father!”_

“ _There is no need to worry, Count Galatea.” He linked their fingers. His shoulders were broad, his feet planted into the soft rug beneath them and he looked him dead in the eyes. “I will do everything to make her happy. No matter what it takes.”_

_Silence. Her father looking at him, until a light chuckle escaped his serious demeanor. “You’ve certainly changed. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have thought in my dreams to allow this marriage to happen, no matter what. You became a fine gentleman, Sylvain. Welcome to the family.” With a smile for his daughter, who sighed in relief, he looked over his shoulder at his two sons. “Let’s celebrate this announcement.”_

_Sylvain tended to eat far less this evening. Didn’t need to take full use of it._

_Ingrid sitting right next to him shot him a grateful smile._

_He squeezed her hand in silent response._

* * *

_Six and a half pair of eyes were looking at them. One in skepticism, one in stoic silence, one in confusion, one in patience, two in excitement and the remaining one in pride._

“ _We decided to get married.”_

_Glances were exchanged in the first split of a second and the queen smiled smugly at the blue haired Duke with a glint in her green eyes. “Pay up, Felix.”_

_He looked between them, saw the irritated scowl on Felix’s brow and a groan escape him._

“ _Wait, you bet on us?” Ingrid looked at her queen in complete irritation. “Your grace, why-”_

_She shrugged, smiled at her husband and without a second thought, Dimitri rose his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying anything_ _about_ _this.”_

_The mischievous blink in the queen’s eyes made Sylvain break out in a sweat and he told himself to ask Felix later about this._

_Annette and Mercedes stepped forward, both of them picking one to embrace. Annette had her arms around Ingrid’s necks while Mercedes took Sylvain’s hand and smiled brightly at him. “Congratulations you two.”_

_And the spark of joy reached his nerves. He smiled, thanking Mercedes and the hug of Byleth when she stood on her toes to put her arms around his neck and squeezed him lightly. “I’m proud of you, Sylvain.”_

_Even though she was married and their academy days lay behind them, she was still the one who bore so much insight and knowledge about him that it scared him sometimes._

_He squeezed back. “Thank you.”_

* * *

_He groaned inwardly, letting his hands skim through his hair. “Do we really have to invite all of them? Isn’t this like our wedding day? A day for us and the people we care about? Why do we have to invite every possible noble on this continent?”_

“ _You know why. As son of house Gautier, you are one of the strongest nobles in the kingdom and therefore one of the strongest nobles in all of Fódlan. We need to do this to maintain good relations to the other houses. You do know that if we make a mistake, it will fall badly on his majesty and then not only do he has a problem but we will as well.”_

_Her reason made so much sense, it unnerved him. Sylvain groaned loudly once again and let himself fall into the cushions of the couch. “I know you’re right. I know that.” She was one of the kingdom’s highest positioned knights and she was marrying him. “But still. This is a day supposed to be for us, a day for us to celebrate. And not for nobles to carry out their agenda and try to use this time to ask for favors.”_

_Ingrid looked at him, the piece of parchment in her hands. She looked at him, at her writing and she lowered her shoulders before taking a seat right next to him. “Sylvain, I know you’re upset. But this is our duty.”_

_Just as it was his duty to find a suitable wife to bear his crest babies._

_The desire to throw up was right now his first priority._

_It wasn’t fair. Not to her, never to her. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. It was uncalled of me to react like this. I know this isn’t fair for any of us.”_

_She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his chin on her scalp, his arm around her w_ _aist, drawing a shudder from her lips_ _and his hand s_ _kimming_ _lightly over her rip cage_ _. “_ _It’s alright. As long as we stay together, we can manage that.” She looked at him from underneath her eyelashes and smiled at him. “We’re in this together, Sylvain. You don’t need to worry about anything on your own – I’m here with you.”_

_A kiss on her forehead and his nose pressed against her temple._

_Silence passed between them until she leaned her head back against his chest. “Can I ask you something?”_

“ _Sure.”_

“ _For the ceremony – do you think we could ask her grace to perform it for us?”_

_The woman who knew enough about him and his fiancee. The thought was comforting. “Of course.”_

* * *

_The next time they were in Fhirdiad, Ingrid asked the archbishop._

_Her green eyes brightened and she agreed with so much enthusiasm that it made his cheeks hurt from all the smiling._

* * *

“ _With the power the goddess has bestowed upon me, I hereby declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”_

_And despite all the cliches in the book of cliches, Sylvain was sure that the kiss to Ingrid Brandl Gautier would never taste sweeter than anyone after it._

* * *

_The wedding reception was nothing short of a dream. Even though there were talks lingering in the corners about topics that would have made him groan, he spoke to the others. To Byleth, thanking both the queen and archbishop for the lovely ceremony. “It meant a huge deal for Ingrid. So, thank you again for this. I really appreciate it.”_

“ _Sylvain, it’s alright. It was my pleasure.” She tilted her head and the flowers she had weaved in her hair were following her movement. She had quickly used the time during the c_ _eremony_ _and_ _reception_ _to change her dress, putting away her robe as the archbishop and putting on one of her dresses. Instead of pure white, matching even the tone of Ingrid’s wedding dress, she wore a dark green robe which reached her ankles and the contrast between the light and dark tone of green let her eyes g_ _low_ _. “I’m happy that I contributed to your wedding like that.”_

“ _You and the others make it easy by just being here.” He let his eyes wander, saw how Dimitri and Dedue stood side by side, both sipping out of their glasses and keeping a conversation incredibly lively – while the man of Duscur spoke with his known calmness, the king’s eye widened and a look of surprise was etched on his face Annette and Felix were dancing with each other on the floor and the sight of Felix’s content face let a grin conjure on his lips. Last but not least, he spotted Ashe and Marianne standing side by side, and Mercedes keeping an interest look in her eyes. “I’m not sure what I would have done if you weren’t here.”_

“ _Don’t think that we’ll let this event pass. You and Ingrid deserve only the best of luck and if we make it easier, we wish to do our best.”_

_Sylvain’s shoulders fell. “Thank you, Byleth. You can’t imagine what that means for me.”_

_She tilted her head and smiled. “Well then, I leave you to your wife.” She patted his shoulder, squeezed it gently and he felt an air of contentment spread through his veins. “I b_ _id you a wonderful evening.”_

_It was a grin he couldn’t keep to himself. “By the way, you still haven’t told me about that bet you had with Felix.”_

_A twinkle in her eyes. Mischievousness a curious gleamed in her orbs and she tilted her head, smiling secretly and shrugging. “A lady does never kiss and tell. Maybe another time.”_

_Without hesitation, Sylvain set out to find his own wife in the crowd that filled the room and of course he found her at the refreshment table, speaking with her oldest brother and the redhead had to pause for a moment to simply look at his wife._

_The dress that graced her body was an old model, worn by her mother who died when Ingrid was a little girl. It hugged her around her narrow waist, let her hips appear more narrow than they were anyway and her broader shoulders were covered in a very feminine style. Laces littered her arms, the sleeves basically visible but the design let it appear like fine art and he was intrigued by the way it looked on her soft skin. The color reminded him of freshly fallen snow, just the same as every winte_ _r_ _by Faerghus_ _standard._

_Their eyes met, green and amber and she smiled and waved at him. She spoke with her brother, laughed and blushed when he took her hand and pressed a kiss against the back of her hand, bowing in front of her and returning to his own family. She greeted a couple of other guests on her way to him, blushed when a noble complimented her. She was beauty incarnated, strength and beauty united in a way that he could never have imagined._

“ _Is everything alright?” She reached for his hands when he caught up to her, grasping it into her calloused palms that even the gloves couldn’t hide. “You seemed troubled when you spoke with her grace.” The light of the chandelier let her blush appear even brighter and his only urge was to bend down and kiss his bride on her sweet lips, showing everyone in the room that she was his._

_The concept of being bound to a person in his life, devoting and giving his everything to one human being, was the opposite of the truth he once told himself. He made this decision himself, he chose her. He was the only person to decide who he wished to marry._

_It was Ingrid. The sole person in his life who knew both his good and his bad sides. The one who was willing to learn about him, to accept his darkness and decided to take it as her own._

“ _It’s alright. Just thanked her for the ceremony.”_

“ _O_ _h, I hadn’t had the time to do this yet! Maybe I can tell her real quick-”_

“ _Ingrid.” He reached for her hand, held it close to his face and put his other on her cheek. “Calm down, Byleth isn’t just going to disappear like that. You have plenty of time to thank her tomorrow.” He started to grin. “Or do you want to get away from me? We haven’t even been married for a full day and you already want-”_

“ _That’s not it and you know that.” Ingrid snapped, but the worry in her eyes lit a fire inside his heart aflame that he deemed finally gone. Guess he was mistaken. “Are you sure you’re alright?”_

“ _Love.” To call her that and to gain a blush on her lovely cheeks from this pet name made him even giddier. He was sure that he would burst at any given moment. “It’s my wedding day. OUR wedding day. There is nothing that could possibly let me worry.”_

_S_ _he let her shoulders drop. Fall. And when the worry was gone, Ingrid’s stern face softened in an instant. “I’m glad to hear this.”_

_Oh how wrong he was in retro perspective._

* * *

“Ingrid!”

A voice echoed through the ballroom, hurried steps with clacking heels approached like a metronome with a man’s voice right behind her. “Darling, you don’t need to hurry-”

“Ingrid!” In a flurry of silk and deep brown locks, Dorothea stepped forward and found the bride, nearly jumping to hug her around her shoulders. Ingrid let out a sound of surprise but quickly reciprocated her embrace. “We finally made it, thank the goddess!”

“Dorothea.” Sylvain followed his wife’s look and it fell on the representative of the former Empire. “And Ferdiand. I’m happy to see you both made it.”

“That was my mistake, Ingrid. My apologies. We would have been here sooner to join you in the ceremony, but there were problems on our way here and we couldn’t make it faster.”

With Dorothea still in her arms, her face was slightly obscured with the brunette’s locks in her face. “Please, don’t worry about it. You’re both here, that’s all that matters.”

“Exactly my words.” The countess stepped back from the margravine, taking her hand into her own and holding them fiercely. “Congratulations, Ingrid.” Her green eyes switched from him to Ingrid. “Congratulations, Sylvain. I’m so happy for you.”

“Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you.”

The fiery songstress quickly switched her center of attention, standing on her tiptoes to hug the groom around the shoulders. Her locks were soft against his cheek and he could hear faintly how Ferdiand spoke calmly with his bride.

He returned the embrace.

“I’m happy that you found your way.”

There it was.

Cold. Ice. Icy cold. Million of shards driving through his blood and letting it freeze in an instant. His heart skipped multiple beats and he was sure that his pulse stopped to work for several moments.

What was this?

Her tone took on a playful note. “Guess for both of us, we could find our happy end.”

And everything came back in a flash.

Instead of ice cold blood, a firestorm brewed inside his veins. Fire, liquid fire flowing through his body and putting him on fire. Purge that soul, let it rest in the eternal flames.

He gulped, feeling the sweat form underneath his red hair and Dorothea stepped back from his embrace.

He looked into her eyes. And they were glistening. Oh goddess, she was crying. But smiling. And nothing made sense at this moment.

“Well, my apologies for intruding your moment, lovebirds.” She giggled behind a manicured hand, catching a sigh from her husband and Ingrid’s blush intensified for a second. Dorothea was and will always be a singularity. “We will talk later, Ingrid. You have to tell me about the ceremony and the preparations.”

“Of course.”

She waved at them and left the couple alone. Sylvain watched how Ferdinand and Dorothea crossed the room and the moment repeated itself when Dorothea caught sight of queen and archbishop with the kind by her side and hugged her around her shoulders.

“Sylvain?”

“Y-yes?” Did he stutter? Did he just stutter?

“Are you absolutely sure you’re alright?”

There was an uncertainty in her look that broke his heart. Ingrid was everything he ever wished for and just one little thing let it crumble.

He grinned – could nearly vomit of the feeling. The corners of his mouth weren’t rising like a normal person, it was plastered on his face. The same kind of grin that he had always shown to anyone around him, rarely letting his guard down.

To show such a smile on a day like this was enough divine punishment.

“Of course. I meant what I said before.”

Liar. He was such a bad liar. That’s what everyone always said. Such a smooth talker, such a silver tongue. But at the end? A liar.

It started again.

“This is our wedding day. Our day. And there is absolutely nothing that could ruin my mood for today.”

There was a lump in his throat. One that prevented him from speaking. And it hurt. It fucking hurt.

Ingrid’s green eyes were drawn into skepticism. Confusion and he saw how she wished to say something, to deny the things he had just said. But she closed her mouth in her end, nodded at him and put her hand on his arm. “If you say so.”

She trusted him. She didn’t think ill of his words. She believed in him. That was normal, right? For a marriage. A wife trusted her husband, just like vice-versa.

Sylvain mused it was normal in a normal marriage. Where the husband wasn’t a skirt-chasing, self-loathing and heartbreaking idiot who has already crushed the dreams of many girls for his own pleasure.

He didn’t say anything after this. He didn’t dare to.

To speak nothing was better than to lie.

Right?

* * *

The party went on. The guests were obviously enjoying themselves, laughs and jokes filling the air around them. He watched the two sides.

His friends and comrades, the ones he trusted with his life. Looked at his best friend and his wife at the refreshment table, how Annette said something with the usual excitement in her eyes and Felix nodding at her words. Raphael talking with Ignatz and the endless amount of food in his mouth, munching and enjoying the simple treats of life.

The royal couple, speaking with Ferdinand and Lorenz. Although the two men were more engaged in a conversation about tea and the good things in life, he could only chuckle about the fact that Byleth passed every one of her champagne glasses to her husband. Maybe the archbishop just didn’t want to drink and she wanted her husband to relax. Even though there was already a red hue on the king’s cheeks from all the alcohol, she didn’t relent. Whenever someone saw her empty hands, she thanked the person, exchanged a look with her husband and passed it on to him.

Both of them were so incorrigible.

And on the other side of the room, they stood. Red and white, fire and snow. Dorothea clapped her hands at Ingrid and his bride laughed out loud.

She was happy. That should be the only thing that interested to him. But Sylvain was an egoist. Selfish. He noticed the looks of their fathers across the room, saw his father’s self-satisfied grin on his lips and Count Galatea’s skeptical brow.

Was it really too much to ask? Was he really that ignorant over the last couple of months, ever since he regained enough courage to ask her? Was he really such a fool to believe that this side of him would just leave with marriage?

What an idiot he was. A complete and utter madman.

It was a miracle after all. The old doubts came back and they hit him with full force. Didn’t he once loath the idea of marriage? Of binding himself to a woman for all eternity? The only reason so many women were interested weren’t his looks or his charm, but only in his noble heritage and bloodline. He bore a crest, that’s everything to him. He shouldn’t introduce himself with his own name anymore, but only with “Nice to meet you, I have the crest of Gautier. Only a minor one but I’m sure that it will also sate your little ego, right?”

He wanted to throw up. He rose his eyes and looked at Ingrid once more. She was still conversing with Dorothea, the girl who understood him from the moment they met. She just figured out his greatest darkness.

She knew him too well. He was afraid of her, to be really honest. She knew what lurked beneath his mask, beneath the facade of the easy-going and caring old brother named Sylvain Jose Gautier.

Maybe Ingrid was the same-

He bit his tongue. He wanted to curse about the pain, but it was the only thing to keep him grounded. What was he thinking? This was Ingrid, probably one of the few persons in this world who always thought for herself-

Wait. Just a second. Wasn’t there something wrong?

Maybe Ingrid was one of them. Her father wanted her to marry a wealthy noble and used her crest to make her look appetizing for fitting suitors. Her original idea to become a knight was cast aside to obey her father’s commands.

Maybe she agreed to marry him because of her father-

Maybe she didn’t really love him-

Maybe she only used him and his crest-

Maybe she was one of them too-

Maybe he was too blind to see that-

Maybe he should just go and leave everything behind-

The room grew hot all of a sudden. Sweat was forming beneath his combed hair and running down his neck into his dress shirt.

A sting of cold hands grabbed hold of his sensitivity and the contrast between the warm and cold made his heart go fast. Maybe run fast enough to be exhausted and stop beating. Maybe fast enough to let his blood boil and freeze then.

All strength left his limbs. The taste of bile climbed up his throat, upon his tongue and the urge to run somewhere was stronger than his desire to look good in front of these people.

He turned his back to the room, refused to look at anyone who may give him a quick glance and quickly carved a path to the high windows of the ballroom, leading to the outskirts of the Gautier Garden. The cold breeze was a comforting sensation on his drenched skin and as soon as he reached a railing, the sickening scent of flowers a pierce through his nose.

Sylvain buried his face in his hands. Took deep breaths – or at least tried to. Every inhale was pain, every exhale anxiety. They came out as short pants, against his hands. Perhaps he should just take it nice and slow, excuse himself for a moment and just leave the party entirely.

But he was the groom, the star of the evening. Ingrid’s husband. It was their party, their wedding day, THEIR day to celebrate without anyone to bother them. If he left, he would just downright betray Ingrid. And to betray the bride during the first two hours after speaking his wedding vows was probably a new record, right? Fitting for a fool like him.

Sylvain pressed a hand against his mouth. Bit on his tongue, forcing the taste of blood onto his taste buds. Anything – just to make him feel _anything_ . Oh goddess above, please let him just _feel anything-_

_He still could feel her lips on his – lush and full and perfect. Perfect for kissing her, perfect for a little slut like her._

No, no, no, not like that-

_The remnants of her tears were still present on her cheeks, two wet carvings on her cheeks and soft skin. He trailed his lips along her cheeks, wandered to her jaw and finally descended onto her neck. He buried his teeth into the soft s_ _kin_ _and left his mark. Should the whole world see that she was also one of them._

No, no, no, she wasn’t, they were similar, she just understood him so well-

_Her whimpers and moans echoed through the room and she was so much quieter than he originally thought. She didn’t scream or howl through his room, but pressed a hand against her mouth to muffle the already silent sounds she gave. She was trembling underneath his hands, her stomach fluttering beneath his mouth and her dark locks sticking to her skin. He was pleasuring her, so so good, and she refused to open her eyes. It was wrong-_

It was so goddamn wrong-

“ _Sylvain,” she had whispered his name, grabbing onto his arms. “Please,” she begged with a pleading voice that let his erection grow soft and hard at the same time. Someone was needing him-_

_Someone was using him-_

Stop it, stop it, stop it-

_They joined and it was the most enthralling and disgusting sensation he ever felt. So many other women were simply mediocre at best and his ego was crying that he had to do all the work without anyone taking care of him properly. But not the girl who was lying below him, looking at him with piercing and knowing eyes, pearly tears gathering on her eyelids and he didn’t want to wipe them away._

This is wrong-

_He was lying on his bed, she was sitting on the edge. He could easily kick her away, like he did with the rest of the women he slept with. But he just stayed there, looking at the ceiling and combing his sweaty hair out his forehead. The silence was toxic, poison was crawling through his veins._

“ _Why-”_

He had made her cry and she wasn’t the first, nor the last.

“ _Why did she betray us? She was our friend, right?”_

_Back then, Dorothea’s tears and hiccups were the most pathetic and heartbreaking sounds he was ever allowed to witness._

“Sylvain?”

The world came crushing back in one motion, taking light, sounds and air with them. He was left wheezing, pressing a hand against his mouth and clutching the railing to gain balance. Fear was crawling over his skin and he wished to disappear.

He looked over his shoulder and let out both a sigh of relief and slight annoyance – just stop it. “Dimitri. Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

The king’s eyebrow lifted in suspicion, but in quiet company and comfort, he joined the groom at the railing and leaned forward. Looked over the Gautier Garden in the chilly beauty of the Lone Moon. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

He pondered. Waited for his heartbeat to calm down and actually challenged it to become even faster. “What do you mean?”

“You left the room in quiet a hurry. I’ve simply wished to know if there was something bothering you.”

Bothering him?

“You know your majesty, you certainly are not that oblivious anymore.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for such a compliment?”

“Ouch, that hurt. When did you become so sassy? Wasn’t that always my job?”

An exasperated groan from his longtime friend and Sylvain had to push down a shudder. **Just retreat with the funny remarks and scandalous notes and no one will notice that something is wrong.**

“Sylvain.” A king needed to command attention at any given moment and the groom could declare that Dimitri wouldn’t need to worry about that one bit. “Something’s bothering you, doesn’t it?”

From a logical aspect, it made sense that people grew suspicious. The groom leaving the party temporarily without the bride. Of course it was strange.

But what did he care about logic at this point?

“Just some old thoughts.” It was an answer and yet not. It was enough. “Just gotta get it sorted out.”

“I see.” The king allowed themselves to bask in the silence, his arms crossed on the railings and his lone blue eye set on the horizon. “Sylvain, may I ask you something?”

The margrave knew how to read the room – and the direction this was going wasn’t to his liking. Not. At. All. “Sure.”

“Are you happy?”

His tongue was caught in his throat, numb and without any sensation. A heavy and bothersome weight in his mouth and he was sure that he couldn’t speak anymore. Even if he tried. Dry and cracked, he buried his teeth into his bottom lip. When was he ever the one to not being able to speak? No matter the situation, no matter the circumstances, he always had something to say.

This silence wasn’t like him. He fought back a shudder, squeezing his arms and stretching them when he leaned back, stared into the sky. Underneath the same kind of sky when he proposed to Ingrid. The woman he married.

The corners of his mouth rose – both in happiness and cynicism. “I am.”

“Then what is bothering you?”

“How did you get the idea that I’m bothered by something?”

He bit back his tongue. This tone of his was unfitting to speak to a king – his king and friend – and yet, he couldn’t stop it from coming. “I’m sorry, Dimitri. It’s just-”

Not just. There was so much to describe, so much to think about. When did this whole thing start? Right when he was born? When his brother got kicked out of Gautier? Or even before?

“It’s just so incredible difficult to say something. Isn’t this my wedding day? Isn’t this supposed to be the best day of my life?” He let out an exhale, biting his lower lip and getting to know the taste of blood on his tongue again. “And here I am, standing on this balcony instead of spending time with my wife in there.”

The king’s sole blue eye was powerful, looking at him in realization and in a way that Sylvain had feared. His friend and sovereign looked at him through a clear perspective, discovering his emotions at once and _understanding him,_ Sylvain Jose Gautier, without any prejudice lying on his shoulders.

How masochistic can a person be?

“Have you ever told her?”

_Even after over six years, he could still feel her arms around his shoulders. Back then, he wondered how soft her skin was when he buried his face into the crook of her neck. But so was Ingrid: a hard and disciplined exterior, but the part only a small hand of people could reach was soft, tender, valuable._

“Oh sure, I can already imagine her reaction.”

“Sylvain.” Dimitri’s voice was a clean cut through the atmosphere around them. His name has been spoken in so many different varieties.

Wrath, pride, lust, passion, seduction, sadness, exasperation, desperation, hope, grief, empathy.

Before he could react, something wet crawled into his eyes and as quick as he could, he wiped it away. “Oh man, this is seriously not my best moment.”

“Even though you act like it, you also deserve one of them.”

“Maybe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take a deep breath. But the weight on his chest and lungs was still too powerful to be lifted anytime soon. How odd that one single sentence could redecorate this whole day in an instance. “Guess that this whole thing is way bigger than I expected.”

A chuckle. “It’s never easy.”

Oh yes, his friend could probably speak a mile about this.

“But may I say something to this, Sylvain?”

No better time than the present. He waved his hand at him, waiting for his response.

“Tell her, speak with Ingrid. You’re married now and you know her – she knows that you’re also carrying demons inside of you and if you truly want to conquer them, you should open up to her.”

All nice and good. But… “What if she leaves me?” A snort, cynical and grievous. “Being left by his own wife on their wedding day. That accounts as a record, I bet?”

It’d be so fitting to happen to a person like him. At least, it would be something he deserved.

“Sylvain.” His name was spoken once more. With each repetition, it was like a punch through his wall. And damn it _hurt._ “Ingrid-”

“Sylvain.”

Uh-oh. Perfect. Just wonderfully perfect.

He squeezed his eyes, dropping his shoulders and all strength left his limps. And slowly, he turned his head and looked at the door.

Ingrid stood in the doorway. A sight that both terrified and excited him. His heart both roared and soared when he saw her. The dress, her hair, her eyes, her face. She was beautiful, strong and captivating, and she was his.

That was one side.

The other side spoke something differently.

_She leaves you. She will leave you. Did you really expect to find happiness? There is nothing like that for you. No matter what you do._

“Ingrid.”

Her eyes were sharp like a razor but with a soft edge. Forgiving, worried, concerned. Kind. So incredibly kind.

An exhale by his side. From the corner of his eye, he saw how Dimitri passed Ingrid with a quiet mumble and the corners of her mouth started rising for a small moment.

She was etheral. And she was his.

But for how long?

“Sylvain.” The skirt of her wedding dress was only a millimeter away from the ground. But this little difference let it seem like she was flying. Flying like on her Pegasus, high in the skies. Far away from him.

He bit his lip.

“What’s wrong?”

Straight to the point. Without any fumbling with the words.

“Ingrid, I-” A sigh. His tongue was dry and lead in his mouth. Too heavy to use it and too light to just fall off. “I’m sorry. I ruined everything again, didn’t I?”

Her blonde eyebrows lifted. Green eyes were glowing with skeptcism and confusion. “Sylvain, what are you talking about?”

His breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat. She touched his face with her slender fingers, the tips causing a bolt of electricity to shoot through his blood. “What’s bothering you?” Her voice was not louder than a whisper. “Please, tell me.”

She begged. Oh goddess, she begged. Her voice was quiet and worried instead. He listened to her speaking like this instead of hearing her laugh across the room and her voice mumbling sweet things into his ear.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.” And for the first time in a long while, he could feel something hit his voice and he nearly cracked. Something shattered in his ears and he leaned forward, buried his face into the crook of her neck, his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Ingrid.”

She wrapped her arms around his midsection and he sobbed into her skin. The voices from inside the room were so far away.

In this moment, only they existed. Sylvain and Ingrid, husband and wife, together on their wedding day. The scent of a sweet perfume mixed with the piece of fabric she used to cover the blade of her lance mixed to such a special combination that he wished to laugh out loud.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” she whispered reverently. Instead of his midsection, she put her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs running over the underside of his eyes and wiping away the small number of tears. “I want to help you, Sylvain. If there is anything I can do, tell me.”

“Don’t leave me.” He caught her hands, pressed them close to his skin and he relished in her warmth. “Don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t.” Her response was immediate and he was grateful – only a small bit of hesitation and his heart would have shattered. “I will never leave you. We’re a unit now, never to be separated. Look.” She lifted their intervened hands and their wedding bands were glowing in the moonlight above them. “This is the proof. A ring never ends. Just like my vow to you will never end.”

“ _I vow to stand by your side through everything. No matter, good times, bad times.”_

“You promised-” Another ball in his throat, preventing him from speaking and Sylvain just wished to fall to his knees. “Ingrid, why- why did you decide to marry someone like me-”

He had asked her. Back then, he shouted it to the whole world. She was his, she said _yes, YES,_ to him. She agreed to spend her life with him.

But now? The euphoria vanished and doubt took its place.

“Oh Sylvain.” Their foreheads were touching and the kindness in her voice let his heart both quicken in joy and anticipation and slow in dread and sadness. He wanted to scream and laugh, to joke and cry, to hit and sleep. “I-”

“I’ve lied to so many people. I hurt so many women. My brother hated me, our fathers just want to use us for their own prestigious reason and I’m scared-”

His breathing stopped for a second. Everything came together. His love, his hatred, his joy, his sadness, his selfishness, his jokes, his doubts. Everything.

Fear.

“I’m scared that you’re going to leave me. I’m scared to fuck everything up and you will hate me in the end.” He linked their fingers. “I ruined our wedding day, I made you worry today and this is the one day where I’m supposed to not ruin everything by just being me-”

Her grip tightened and her fingers pressed tightly against his cheekbones. A sudden pain ran through his face, sharp and piercing. His heart stopped beating for a second and it was like time halted to this very moment. “Sylvain.”

She spoke his name like a melody. Like a judgment. Like a call.

_Wake up._

“Sylvain, You did not ruin anything. Absolutely nothing.” Her touch went back to its softness, tenderness seeping through his skin into his features and letting them relax instantly. “This is our wedding day, our day. And until now, I can surely say that this is the best day of my life.”

“But-” His voice wasn’t weeping anymore – instead, it was meek sound, similar to a cry. “But how? I didn’t spend this time with you, I hid myself here?”

“Despite that, I still had so much fun with you. And do you know why?” She put her hands on his jaw. “We’re married, Sylvain. As soon as I can look at you with this fact, I’m happy. I only need you.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You make me so incredibly happy, Sylvain. Truly.”

The margrave lifted his head and looked at her – Ingrid Brandl Gautier, his wife, his everything, the woman who was beside him no matter the situation. In hardship and good times, whenever he needed help, in war and peace, in work and breaks. The one who always offered her shoulder, the one who never left him behind and took his hand.

“Truly truly?”

A giggle out of her mouth and it was the most ethereal sound to his ears. “Truly.”

A pause. She titled her head. And all of a sudden, Ingrid stood on her tiptoes and kissed him squarely on his lips.

Ambrosia. A warm meal after the Faerghus winter. A wine with friends after a successful battle. A warm bed after a night with documents to sign. His woman looking at him from the sidelines and smiling at him.

All those things were wonderful. But they were nothing in comparison to Ingrid’s lips on his, kissing him oh so sweetly and her taste became his favorite ever since he was allowed a small drop of it.

“Do you believe me?”

No second to wait. “I do. Always.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Do you think I’ll speak the truth?”

“I-”

The pause didn’t vanish. Like acid, it spread on his tongue. But it stayed. The doubts always stayed.

Maybe they always would.

“Sylvain.”

A cut through the air between them. He closed his eyes, pulled his shoulders upwards.

“I love you.”

An exhale. The tension vanished. And he opened his eyes.

He didn’t see the other women before her. Unknown faces, small flings that he used to sate his own ego – and how much it still hurt to think about it – or even a woman like Dorothea, well-respected and having a family build on her own.

Ingrid was with him. His wife, his love, his life, was with him. Stood in front of him with her hands cupping his cheeks and her smile on her lips.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back and embraced her. She fit in his arms just the right way. Lock and key, two persons. Once childhood friends, trusted companions, warriors side by side and finally husband and wife.

Two sides. He kissed her. Once, twice, three times. Too many times to count. And it was simply addicting for his lips.

Sylvain leaned his forehead softly against hers. “Thank you, Ingrid.” A pause. “For everything you have ever done for me.” He took her hands in his, looked at the wedding band on her finger and his broader one on his own finger. “I will make you happy. I swear it.”

“I believe you.”

Sincerity and truth. Kindness and compassion. He didn’t deserve her.

And it was something he didn’t care about.

“How about one dance, my lady?”

A sudden change of topic, but he watched in glee how she laughed quietly. “I’d love to.”

She held out his hand. And he took it.

Together, they reentered the ball room and with her by her side, Sylvain felt his void fade.

They were two halves of a whole, after all.


End file.
